Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 71

KATY’S POV

Whoever was supposed to be proposed to in this room must have really loved flowers… or the hotel just lost its mind. Even though the receptionist claimed the staff were clearing the place, there was still a giant heart of flowers sprawled across the bed. Honestly, it looked like someone had tried to trap Cupid in here.

Braydon pushes in, sighing as he kicks off his shoes and shuts the door behind him.

He peels off his shirt, bare-chested now, and pauses at his waist, giving the impression he might go further.

“Woah.” I exclaim, covering my eyes with one hand. Slowly, I peek through my fingers. His head tilts, and his expression is… unbelievable.

“You’ve seen everything already,” he says. “What’s left to hide?”

I roll my eyes, trying desperately to hide the flush creeping up my chin. “Still doesn’t mean you have to go full nude.”

“I wasn’t,” he counters, tugging off his trousers to reveal his boxers. “You really think so little of me sometimes.”

I bite back a laugh, watching him trudge toward the bathroom. When the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale, dropping my bags and random items on the bedside desk. Thank goodness we actually managed to snag a room. It’s almost midnight, and I honestly can’t imagine still being stuck in that car by now.

I start peeling off my bracelet and earrings, only to realize a very adult problem: I literally don’t have anything to change into after my bath. These clothes are soaked in sweat and way too grimy for bed. My eyes drift toward the bathroom, curiosity winning over common sense. What exactly does Braydon plan to wear after he’s done in there?

I know I probably shouldn’t think about it, but I can’t help picturing him stepping out in those boxers again… or worse, nothing. I groan softly, shaking my head.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Room service,” a voice calls.

I get up and open the door. A young woman is standing there, smiling, and she hands me a medium-sized bag.

“The clothes you paid for,” she says.

I blink. “Me?”

“The gentleman,” she corrects. “He asked us to get some clothes from our store.”

“Oh.” I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, then bids me goodnight.

I shut the door and peek inside the bag with a mix of curiosity and surprise. A smile spreads across my face. I didn’t even know when he had arranged this or paid for it. There’s a nightdress, panties, and even some clothes for him too. My brain does a little happy dance.

I place the bag on the night stand and start clearing the rose petals on the bed.

***

Braydon is lying flat on his back, his hands clasped over his chiseled abs. Because, of course, he’s not wearing a shirt. Meanwhile, this wispy, sheer little dress I threw on post-shower is doing zero favors. Every time I shift, even just to breathe, the fabric pools around my waist and leaves my thighs completely exposed and ridiculously close to his.

We’ve been lying here for over thirty minutes, and not a single word has been spoken. I can’t even tell if he is asleep because his eyes are closed, but his expression makes me suspicious.

I thought I’d crash as soon as my head hit the pillow, given how long today’s been, but after that shower, I feel like an athlete hyped up on adrenaline. My body is buzzing, my thoughts are racing, and lying next to him shirtless, and impossibly calm doesn’t exactly help.

I shift slightly under the covers, trying to get comfortable without giving away how aware I am of every inch of him. After a few minutes, I can’t take the silence anymore.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles after a few seconds, shifting just enough to remind me that yes, he’s very much awake. “Can’t figure out if it’s this bed or you staring at me that’s keeping me up.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up. Caught red-handed.

He lets out a small, dismissive scoff. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Then, in one swift move, he rolls onto his side. Suddenly, his face is inches from mine, and the proximity is completely overwhelming. I can feel the warmth radiating off his chest and I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to inhale correctly.

“Look,” he says, his voice dropping, his eyes dark and ridiculously intense in the low light. ”

Maybe we should just… cuddle.”

My heart does a frantic double-kick. “Yeah, right,” I manage, the sarcasm forced. I tuck the covers tighter around myself as if that will somehow protect me from him and his massive frame, which I absolutely cannot stop thinking about.

He huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head, and we fall into silence again. It stretches for a moment before he breaks it.

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