“Goodnight sweet Isla,” I murmur before turning to head for the door.
5
* * *
Morgan
It isn’t until the next morning that the full weight of last night’s activities hits me like a ton of bricks. A sexy, fucked up, totally unexpected ton of bricks. I wait for regret to rob me of the pleasant memories, but there’s only a hazy sense of accomplishment at the idea that maybe I did actually help her.
I can hear Isla’s shower running as I get up to brush my teeth, so I know she’s up. The thought of her naked body conjures all the images from last night freshly to my mind, causing a stir of arousal in my boxer briefs. I wonder how she’s feeling about it all now that she’s had a good night sleep to process it. If she hasn’t come bursting through my door demanding an apology for violating her last night, that has to be a good sign, right?
After a quick rinse in the shower, I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and head down to the kitchen. I promised her pancakes and a debriefing in the morning, and if last night taught us anything, I’m a man who’s true to my word. And then some.
Just as I’m finishing my cup of coffee, I hear Isla padding across the hall and down the stairs. I brace myself for a confrontation, for her to be embarrassed or shy or angry. But when she appears around the corner wearing jeans and a scoop neck sweater that make me want to do all kinds of bad things to her, she gives me the same regular smile she always does. Like she didn’t have her hands and mouth on my cock just twelve hours ago. Like I hadn’t touched her in places that made her moan my name and shudder as she came hard. But when my eyes meet hers, oddly enough everything feels… normal. A little bit sexually charged, but normal. Like what we did last night was as casual as going out to get pancakes and bacon this morning.
Okay, that was unexpected.
“Morning, Morgan,” she says, happily, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Isla.” Instead of focusing on her stunning face, I zoom in on the extra large cup she’s pouring coffee into. “I didn’t realize you were a coffee drinker.”
She shoots me an incredulous look. “I’m a college student, not a freak of nature.”
I shrug and raise my hands in surrender. “How fast can you finish that cup? I’m starving.”
She rolls her eyes, but downs her coffee in record time, and then the two of us climb into my truck, chatting easily the whole way to the diner. Once there, we’re seated in a booth by the windows and place our orders.
“I’ll have the pancake breakfast with bacon and an orange juice,” Isla says with a smile, handing her menu to the waitress.
“I’ll do the lumberjack’s special, eggs over easy and hash browns well done. And can I get pancakes instead of toast?” I ask, winking at Isla.
“Sure thing, sweetie,” the waitress replies, tucking my menu under her arm.
As she walks away, Isla leans toward me, resting her elbows on the table in a way that puts her full breasts on perfect display.
“Damn, Morgan, think you’ll have enough food?” she teases.
“Hey, a man’s got to eat,” I say with a shrug, forcing my eyes away from her chest.
She smiles and shakes her head. “Are all hockey players such bottomless pits?”
I think of the massive team dinners we go to together, where our table is always jammed packed with food, which always has a way of disappearing quickly.
“Yeah, you could say we tend to have big appetites.”
Isla chuckles. “Of I’ve heard the stories about hockey players…you don’t just have big appetites for food. I know about the puck bunnies, Mor,” she chuckles, fiddling with her napkin. “Have you had an girlfriends since you’ve moved to Seattle? Do you want one?” she asks, looking up at me with a curious expression.
“Uh…” I hesitate, my voice strained. “Not sure.”
The waitress returns with my coffee and her orange juice, and we settle into comfortable conversation, finally learning all the things about each other we never got around to. We’ve never spent much time together, and the times we did, I spent so much of it trying to avoid her, avoid noticing how sexy she was, it’s nice just to have a regular conversation. I have to say, it’s pretty cool being able to finally open up and learn more about her.
“I had no idea you were thinking about a political science minor,” I say before shoveling another bite of pancake into my mouth.
“It was Tyler’s idea, actually. But that doesn’t matter anymore, I guess.”
The mention of Tyler snaps my attention back to last night. I watch her face closely for any trace of shame or regret, but I don’t find either. I decide to move past it and let her be the one to bring it up.
“I’m sorry about the breakup. Even if the guy turned out to be a worthless piece of shit, it still sucks to go through.”
She shrugs, poking around at her pancakes with her fork. “It weirdly doesn’t even bother me anymore. I think last night might have something to do with it.”
I give her a long, measured look and can’t help the way my mouth tilts in a slight grin. “In a good way?”
She locks eyes with me. “I think so.”
Not exactly the response I was looking for.
“Look, Isla, I’m sorry if I pressured you into doing something you didn’t want to do. It’s just that—”
But before I can finish, she cuts me off, resting her hand on top of mine on the table.
“Don’t apologize. I asked for your help. And that’s exactly what you gave me. You helped.” She grins at me. “Really helped.”
I stare deep into her eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. “Are you sure? Because the last thing I want is for you to tell me what you think I want to hear right now.” Not to mention you did as much of the helping as I did.
“I’m positive. I think it was exactly what I needed. Thank you, Morgan.”
She gives me a soft smile, and I smile back.
“I should be thanking you. It’s not like there wasn’t anything in it for me, you know.”
A pretty blush creeps over her chest and cheeks. “Trust me, I remember.”
Just as I’m about to respond, my phone rings in my pocket. When I pull it out to check it, I can’t tell whether I want to burst out laughing or hide my face in shame.
Instead of doing either, I answer it. “Hi, Dad.”
Isla practically snorts orange juice through her nose. I silently shush her while my dad goes through all the normal greetings, and she claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with equal parts amusement and horror.
“So, how’s Isla doing?” he asks. “Have the two of you seen much of each other this weekend?”
Oh, we’ve seen plenty.
“Isla’s good. She’s right here, actually, if you want to talk to her.”
Her eyes grow somehow even wider, and she shakes her head in disbelief.
My dad sounds pleasantly surprised. “She is? Well, look at you two, finally getting to spend a little quality time together. Did you hear that, Dawn? The kids are spending time together.”
I cringe at the sound of my dad calling us “the kids,” but quickly shrug it off as Isla’s mother takes the phone.
“Oh, Morgan, I’m so happy to hear that! Thank you for taking such good care of my baby girl.”
You have no idea.
“It’s my pleasure, Dawn.”
I can hear the smile in her voice when she replies. “So, you guys got to know each other better?”
Biblically speaking? Yes.
“Uh-huh,” I stammer. “Would you like to talk to her?”
I hand the phone to Isla, who rolls her eyes at me before forcing a smile on her face to talk to her mother.
“Hi, Mom. Yes, Morgan and I are out getting breakfast right now. I know, it is about time we got to know each other, isn’t it?” She nods along as they talk, her tone casual and even, but the longer they talk, the look on her face grows more and more embarrassed while her eyes g
row increasingly heated.
“Uh-huh, you’re right, we should have given each other a chance a long time ago. But hey, some things can’t be rushed, you know?” She winks at me, sending a jolt of electricity behind my zipper.
This girl never ceases to surprise me.
She continues to nod as they wrap up their conversation. “Okay, sounds good. Have fun, you guys! Bye.”
She hangs up and hands the phone back to me.
“They say goodbye and thank you,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smile.
“They’re, uh, welcome?”
We lock eyes, pausing for a moment before bursting out laughing, the tension of the last five minutes too much to handle any longer.
Isla looks at me and shakes her head, her smile slowly fading into a satisfied look. “That was insane.”
I shrug. “What they don’t know won’t kill them.”
“God, I hope so.”
We finish our meal and I pay at the counter, both of us still smiling in disbelief the whole ride home. Once there, we linger in the kitchen before parting ways.
“I should probably get going soon. Long drive ahead of me,” I say, nodding to my room upstairs.
“Yeah, you don’t want to hit any traffic,” she replies, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.
I start to walk away, but something stops me. I turn back around, running a hand over the back of my neck. “Hey, listen, I just want to let you know that you shouldn’t let any of that Tyler bullshit weigh you down once you get back to school. You’re an amazing catch, Isla and he’s an idiot for letting you go.”
She smiles as her cheeks flame red. “Thanks, Morgan. That’s nice of you to say.”
“I mean it. Shit, if you want a professional hockey team to beat him up, I’m just a phone call or text away.”
She laughs. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m pretty good with my fists.”
Damn if I don’t know that by now.
“Well, if there’s anything you need, feel free to call or text me anytime. And I mean, whatever you might need—just to talk or whatever.” Yep, I’m definitely going to hell.
A coy smile forms on her lips. “Careful, Morgan. I just might take you up on that.”
“Trust me, Isla. I hope you will.”
6
* * *
Morgan
My phone buzzes and the name flashing on the screen sends a jolt of nervous energy down my spine.
Isla.
I take a deep breath and tap the screen to view the message, half-hoping she’s texting me to let me know she can’t make it. It would certainly make things a lot easier. A lot more clear cut. Because anytime her name appears on my phone screen, I get this strange heart-fluttering feeling. Weird, right?
Hey! Just letting you know we’re leaving now. Can’t wait to see you soon! :)
I guess that answers my question.
My dad, along with Isla and her mom, are on their way to Seattle to stay with me this weekend. It’s been a year since that night at our parents’ house, and while we’ve seen each other a couple of times since then, our parents were always around to ease the tension that swam between us. Not that they have any idea what happened. Hell no. If anything, they’re just excited that the four of us can all hang out now like adults. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if they found out what I taught her that weekend they were out of town on their honeymoon.
But let’s be honest, I wouldn’t mind giving her another lesson. I’ve thought about it so many times, I’m surprised I haven’t rubbed all the skin off my dick in the process.
That’s not what this weekend is about, though. Because while we might not have seen each other very often, we’ve stayed in touch, texting a couple times a week about her classes, my hockey schedule, and everything in between. Much to my surprise, she even started letting me know when she used some of the techniques I showed her in the bedroom. Nothing too graphic, but I got the picture… and got more turned on than I’d like to admit.
So when she texted me complaining about having no plans for spring break, I didn’t think twice about inviting her to Seattle. My team has a huge game this weekend, and no matter how we do, we always like to go out and have some fun afterward, whether we’re celebrating a victory or drowning our sorrows. It might not be on the same level as enjoying an umbrella drink in Cancun, but I’ll make sure she has a damn good time.
My phone buzzes again and this time it’s Owen, reminding me about our pre-game meeting this afternoon. Our coach has been on a sports psychology kick this season, and he decided that this weekend was a good time to try out some pre-competition meditation techniques. It sounds like a bunch of hippy-dippy bullshit to me, but I don’t make the rules. The only problem is I totally forgot about the meeting, and it’s at the same time that Isla’s supposed to get here.
Gonna be late. Parentals and stepsister coming to visit.
Before hitting send, I pause at the word “stepsister” glaring at me from my phone. That’s technically what Isla is to me, but it feels like the wrong way to describe our relationship. After going back and forth about it, I delete the word and replace it with “friend.” Less complicated. And makes me feel about ten thousand times less creepy.
I spend the next two hours cleaning my apartment and making it presentable for my house guests. My dad and stepmom will sleep in the newly furnished guest room. I’m thankful for some of my female friends, mainly Aubree and Bailey, for forcing me into furnishing it—it’s got a queen-sized bed and dresser now at least.
Isla will sleep on the couch. Aside from the not-so-subtle hints she drops from time to time thanking me for the lesson I gave her, we haven’t ever talked about being physical again. Don’t get me wrong, my attraction to her hasn’t faded one single bit, but the last thing I want is for her to feel obligated to do anything. This weekend is about hanging out with the family, not getting my dick sucked.
My phone dings. It’s Isla.
We’re here!
Here goes nothing.
I buzz them in, listening to their footsteps coming up the stairwell while my heart pounds out an erratic rhythm in my chest.
Geez, chill the fuck out, Mor.
Dad gives me a hug and when he releases me, I take the duffle bag from Isla’s hands and have to force my eyes away, because damn does she look incredible. Toned legs encased in a pair of well-fitting jeans. A tight ass that I would love to become better acquainted with, a shy smile, and eyes that communicate so much. Ignoring the simmering attraction between us, I give everyone a tour of my place.
“You’ve grown muscles on top of your muscles,” my stepmom Dawn says, pulling me in for a hug. “How have you been, honey?”
Regular team workouts and fighting to keep a spot in the pros will keep you in good shape, that’s for certain. “I’ve been great.”
I can’t help my gaze from straying to Isla as I make small talk with my dad and Dawn. I wonder what she’s thinking about as her eyes roam around my apartment.
As Dad carries their suitcases into the guest room, he calls over his shoulder, “It’s a good thing you have a second bedroom, Isla’s applied for an internship in the city this summer. You guys could end up being roommates.”
My head snaps over to look at Isla. A shy smile tugs at her lips.
“That’s amazing,” I say, trying to act casual. Isla as a roommate? Why does that thought make my heart pound? “Also, hi. I’m glad you’re here.” I realize as the words leave my mouth, they’re one-hundred percent true. I had been nervous about this, but somehow, seeing her here, it just feels right.
“Hi to you too,” she chuckles, breaking some of the tension between us.
Shoving my hands through my hair, I glance at the clock in the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Pre-game meeting. But I’ll see at the arena. And there’s food in the fridge, so help yourself to anything.”
“Kick some ass tonight,” Dad s
ays, flashing me a proud grin.
I grab my stuff and head out, pausing to make sure my dad has the tickets for tonight I sent.
I make it through the pre-game meditation and the warmup. And now it’s finally game time. All the lights in the stadium have been dimmed for the national anthem, and I have to squint out at the crowd to try and find the seats my friend Becca got for my dad, Dawn, and Isla. My dad is easy to spot. He’s the tallest of the three and dressed in a forest green jersey with my number on it. My throat gets a little tight as I watch him with his hand over his heart. I’m really freaking glad he came. Next to him is my stepmom, who’s got a huge smile, and then beside her is Isla. Her eyes are locked onto mine and a small shiver races through me. I’m glad she’s here too.
Once the game starts and our first line takes the ice, the action passes by in a blur. I get little in the way of playing time, but I’m thankful even for that. Our roster is stacked with the country’s top talent, and I’m one of the newer, younger guys on the team. Just because I’m hungry for more ice time doesn’t mean it’ll be handed to me. I’ll have to earn it, and I intend to. I wasn’t raised to be an entitled asshole, I was raised to work hard and appreciate what you’ve got. And what I’ve got is a pretty sweet gig considering I get to play a game I love for a living. I watch the action out on the ice, trying to spot the openings, the opposing team’s weaknesses.
After the game ends—a three to one win for us—we go out to dinner with our parents. Isla fills us in on college and the possibility of this internship, and the small talk flows easily throughout the night.
A few hours later, our parents have gone home and now I’m sitting across from Isla in one of the red vinyl booths in the back of Dicky’s dive bar, one of our team’s favorite post-game spots in Seattle. The one thing I didn’t think about when I invited her to come out with us was the fact that she’d be meeting my teammates. My horny, booze-loving, dick-swinging teammates. Which means I’ve spent the last hour playing goalie off the ice too, trying to keep their wandering sticks from getting tangled in Isla’s net. Most of them are in relationships now, but I’m not sure how that would stop them from noticing how gorgeous she is. And I definitely don’t like the way the rookie left-winger Jordie is looking at her. If it wouldn’t make such a scene, I’d fucking punch him.
The Bedroom Experiment Page 3