Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Nash’s reputation for being able to charm any girl any time is well-known, and knowing that is pissing me off all of a sudden. Or am I jealous? What the fuck?
“How well do you know her?” The question comes out harsher than I intended, and I give myself a mental kick in the balls.
It was one kiss. One fun little encounter that I’ll admit was mildly interesting, but it didn’t need to turn me into a territorial asshole.
I just have to keep telling myself that and maybe it’ll come true.
Nash steps a little closer, no qualms at all that he's fucking naked, and stands eye-to-eye with me. He has some ink over the right side of his chest, and his dirty-blond hair is pulled back with a tie. If I was a smart guy, I'd probably be intimidated by the jacked fucker, but I've never been one for being complimented about my intelligence.
“Don't know her like that, man,” Nash says, that smirk still on his face. “But what's it to you? Did you fall in love after one kiss?”
“Not really my style,” I say, swallowing the jealousy that has no right taking up residence in my body.
“She’s Monroe’s best friend,” Pax adds. “A friend of the team too. And that's all she can be now that she's a coach.” He says the last part with a bit of emphasis, and I furrow my brow at him.
“Why are you throwing that at me?”
“Maybe because you're acting all butt-hurt over the idea that maybe one of us knew her in a way you didn't like,” Nash fires.
I scoff and shake my head. “I was just curious. Do I look like some lovestruck teenager?”
Nash and Pax stare at me with the same incredulous look, and I roll my eyes.
“I'm not. Last night was nothing. I didn't know she would be our skate coach. If I did, I would’ve kept a respectful distance.”
But would I? It's really hard to say with certainty, especially now that I know what her lips feel like against mine, what her supple body feels like beneath my hands. Fuck, just the thought of it has me half-hard, and I'm standing in the fucking locker room with some naked and some half-naked teammates. I need to get my shit together.
“You two assholes could’ve given me a heads-up, by the way,” I fire at the two.
“Hey man, we didn't know she was going to be our coach,” Pax says. “I know her through Monroe and neither one of them said a word. I had no idea McClaren hired her.”
Nash nods in agreement, digging through his locker for something. He pulls out his phone, extends it just slightly, and takes a selfie before sending it off to someone and re-stowing it in his locker.
I cock a brow at him. “Sending a dick pic to one of the chicks you picked up last night?” I tease.
“Who says I picked up just one?” he fires back, then chuckles. “And no, I don't make a habit of taking pictures of my dick. Not only is that a douchebag thing to do without a specific request, it could turn into a PR nightmare that I don't need. I'm already in the headlines enough for my nightlife, and the last thing I need is to have my cock flashed around the social pages.”
“Interesting, I would have pegged you for someone who already had that out there on purpose.”
“Gotta leave something to the imagination,” he says walking past me and heading to the showers.
Pax is decent enough to keep his towel on when he leans closer, lowering his voice. “Seriously though,” he says. “We all saw you making out with Blakely last night. You're fine with it being off limits now?”
“Of course I am,” I answer quickly.
Did it make it true?
Not really.
But I need it to be true.
I may still be a little sour about being drafted to Bangor, but this is my team now. And there’s nothing in this world I want more than a chance at the Cup. That meant dedicating myself one hundred percent to my team and my skills, not to mention not getting mixed up in any messy workplace relationships, even if they would be no-strings.
And fuck me if I haven't thought about pulling Blakely’s strings.
She certainly didn’t pull any punches during practice today, and I may be imagining it, but I swore she singled me out and worked me harder than any of the other guys.
The thought alone made me smile.
Kiplin decides to walk by at that very moment, scowling at the grin on my face. “Does the sight of yourself make you that happy?” he asks in that gruff annoyed tone of his.
I shrug, smiling wider. “You'd grin all the time too if you looked like me,” I say, winking at him before heading to the showers.