Page 101 of Play Along With Me
Instead, I find myself settling back against Jake's warmth, his arm tightening slightly in his sleep as if reluctant to let me go. The responsible choice would be to leave now, to maintain some semblance of boundaries and independence.
But as I drift back to sleep, I can't bring myself to regret choosing comfort over caution, connection over self-protection. Maybe my character Eliza isn't the only one learning to embrace possibilities instead of running from them.
Chapter 14
The soft morning light filters through the curtains my mother insisted on hanging, casting the room in a gentle glow that feels almost dreamlike. I wake slowly, awareness returning in layers—first the warmth of another body pressed against mine, then the faint scent of Audrey's shampoo, finally the comforting weight of her head on my chest, her breathing still deep and even with sleep.
For a moment, I simply lie still, savoring the unfamiliar yet completely right sensation of holding her. In my years of single-minded focus on hockey, these moments have been rare—mornings of quiet connection, of simply being with someone rather than already rushing to the next practice, the next game, the next career milestone.
Audrey stirs slightly, murmuring something unintelligible as she burrows closer, one leg draped over mine and her arm tightening across my torso. The simple, unconscious gesture of seeking closeness even in sleep doessomething strange to my chest—a tightening that has nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the woman in my arms.
Her eyes flutter open slowly, confusion momentarily clouding them before recognition dawns. "Morning," she mumbles, voice raspy with sleep. "What time is it?"
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. "Just after seven."
She groans, burying her face against my chest. "Too early. Need coffee. And possibly a time machine to give me three more hours of sleep."
Her hair is a chaotic tangle, her makeup slightly smudged beneath her eyes, her voice rough from sleep. She's never looked more beautiful.
"Coffee I can provide," I offer. "Time machine is beyond my technological capabilities."
Audrey lifts her head, blinking up at me with a sleepy smile that sends warmth spreading through my chest. "Disappointing. I expected more from an NHL player. Don't they equip you with time manipulation abilities when you get called up?"
"That's not until you make the All-Star team," I inform her seriously. "Rookies just get the standard-issue gear."
She laughs, the sound slightly muffled against my skin as she lays her head back down. "Your loss. Time manipulation would be very useful for early mornings after staying up too late."
"No regrets about staying up late, though?" I ask, running my fingers through her tangled hair.
Audrey tilts her face up to meet my eyes, her expression softening. "Not a single one."
The simple honesty in her voice, free from her usual protective layer of humor, pulls me toward her like gravity. I lean down as she reaches up, our lips meeting in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens, the embers of last night's passion reigniting with surprising speed.
"Good morning to you too," she murmurs against my mouth, her hand sliding up my chest to curl around the back of my neck.
What follows is different from last night—slower, more deliberate, a languid exploration rather than an urgent discovery. There's an intimacy to morning intimacy that feels significant, the bright light leaving no room for artifice or performance. Just us, stripped of pretenses, learning each other in the clear light of day.
"I could get used to this," Audrey admits afterward, her head resting on my shoulder as she catches her breath. "Hockey players really do have impressive stamina."
"Years of cardiovascular training," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Very scientific approach to fitness."
"I approve of the application," she declares. "Though I'm going to need that coffee soon or I might slip into a pleasure-induced coma. Delightful way to go, but still inconvenient for future activities."
I laugh, reluctantly extracting myself from her embrace. "Coffee mission accepted. Do you want to shower while I make it?"
"Shower sounds heavenly," she admits. "Though I'm wearing the same clothes from yesterday, so cleanliness will only partially salvage my walk of shame aesthetic."
"You could borrow something of mine," I offer, climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. "Though everything would be oversized on you."
"I'm not opposed to the 'drowning in boyfriend's clothes' look," Audrey muses, then freezes, her eyes widening slightly. "Not that you're my—I mean, I didn't mean to imply—"
"I like the sound of it," I interrupt her backpedaling, surprised by how much I mean it. "If that's something you'd want. Eventually. When we've figured out what this is beyond really great chemistry and mutually beneficial parent deception."
The tension leaves her shoulders, a small smile playing at her lips. "Maybe. Let's see where this goes first, before we start exchanging letterman jackets and class rings."
"Do NHL players get class rings?" I wonder aloud, pulling a t-shirt over my head.
"If not, they absolutely should," Audrey declares, wrapping the sheet around herself as she stands. "With little diamonds shaped like hockey pucks. Very tasteful."
