Page 21 of Meet Your Match
Throughout the day, I’d posted pictures and videos to my stories on the One Month with Vince Cool account, showing everything from the guys dressed in their travel day suits on the tarmac to them wrestling each other to the ground in the hallway of the hotel on the way to their rooms. All day long, the followers had ticked up, and any time I posted anything, it took only seconds to have thousands of likes and comments. I was also receiving direct messages with requests for what they wanted to see.
Please show us what they do after the game when they win!
OMG, please post what bar they’ll be at so I can show up and make Vince my husband.
Can you tell us what music he loves to listen to?
Can you show us pictures of him as a kid?
What does he like to do when he’s not playing hockey?
Is he DTF? If so, how do I get in on that?
How do I become his wife?
Tell Vince I said he’s a pussy.
That last one was from Jaxson Brittain, which made me laugh.
By the time my head hit the pillow last night, the account had half-a-million followers.
In one day.
That made my chest tighten with a performance anxiety I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before. It also made me shake off my thoughts and focus on my mat. I needed to let go of all the noise. Otherwise, I’d drown in it.
I flowed through a gentle thirty-minute practice before I had to take a quick shower and get over to Vince’s room. I’d filmed a little of him at the morning skate, which was just as relaxed and fun as the plane ride had been, but then the team had retired back to the hotel to get ready for the game.
I didn’t realize that, for most of them, part of that process was taking a long nap.
So I’d retreated to my room for a little much-needed silence, and I felt a bit refreshed as I got dressed and ready for my first NHL game.
Before heading over to Vince’s room, I checked my reflection in the mirror. My outfit was much more appropriate than what I’d worn the day before. I chose a chic pair of cream slacks and a white blouse, pairing a royal blue blazer with it to match the team’s colorsandto keep myself warm. My curls were bouncy and voluminous, but without the frizz I usually had in Florida. I absentmindedly wondered if women in the Northeast ever had to deal with humidity or if their hair always looked flawless. I’d also decided to wear my favorite pair of nude heels, giving myself a little height. I just prayed my feet wouldn’t be in too much pain by the end of the night.
My makeup was soft and neutral, the way I applied it when I wanted it to look like I wasn’t even wearing any at all. I used just enough concealer and foundation to smooth my skin but still let my freckles pop through, and I enhanced my brows with a little gel before running mascaraover my lashes. A nude gloss finished the look, calling attention to one of my favorite assets. I loved my lips, my teeth, my smile as a whole.
When I added a delicate pair of gold ear climbers and a dainty chain necklace that hung perfectly in the V of my blouse, I called it done, and then I was out the door and on my way to Vince’s room.
Which was, conveniently, right next door.
I pulled a deep inhale through my nose, forcing a smile before I rapped my knuckles on the wood. I was about to knock again when the door flew open.
Vince was once again shirtless, and this time, he was in nothing but a pair of navy blue briefs.
It happened so fast — him slinging the door open, running a hand back through his messy hair as he yawned and held it open wide for me to come in. He was just a tired man waking up from a nap in his underwear, nothing out of the ordinary for him.
But for me, it was like seeing one of the seven wonders of the world.
Even if Iwasused to his ridiculous abdomen and chest — which I wasn’t, by the way — I was now face to face with his monster thighs, too. They strained against the fabric of his underwear, though not as much as another part of him, which was framed perfectly by the white stitching in the front of those blue briefs.
He was alsovery muchat attention.
Vince didn’t seem to notice. He just held the door open wider, and then once I had my hand on it, turned to walk farther into his suite. And when he did, I gaped for another reason altogether.
Vince Tanev had an ass of stone.
It was the largest I’d ever seen on any man in my life, but it was also cut, the muscles lean and a dip in the side ofeach cheek showcasing as he walked. I’d had a sneaky suspicion when I’d seen them all dressed in their suits earlier, but now, I had that suspicion verified.
Hockey players had the best asses in the entire world.
