Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Thirty minutes later, I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. My staple outfit, complete with Converses. I’m a simple man who doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. I make enough money to shroud myself in Gucci, but it’s not my taste.
Growing up in a trailer and not having a dime to my name, I learned early on that would never be me. You can take the guy out of the gutter, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to lose every aspect of himself in order to fit in.
Not me.
When I’m ready, I head back out to the couch, and minutes later, Cassidy emerges.
My mouth dries at the sight of her. So much for having my dick under control.
“What are you wearing?” I practically snarl. Real smooth.
She looks down at the coral-colored mini dress with itty bitty straps. The front plunges into a V, showcasing a healthy amount of skin. It molds to her body like a second skin.
“A dress.”
Standing from the couch, I move until I’m directly in front of her. “Obviously, it’s a dress. But where is the rest of it?”
“You’re being ridiculous, Aiden. I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. I have to dress the part.”
I grind my teeth, annoyed that she’s throwing my words back at me.
She has a point. But fuck.
That dress is all sorts of dangerous, and my teammates will make me want to fight. I know it.
Might as well get this over with.
Hudson rented out the VIP lounge at Lux Bar. It’s an upscale club in town that’s bursting at the seams. I was surprised to see a line outside that almost wrapped around the building, but we don’t have to wait, VIP service and all.
It’s one of the perks of the job.
I don’t take advantage of it often, but I know my teammates do.
In every city we go to, no matter how big or small, all the bars fight to be the place where everyone who’s anyone wants to hang.
This must be that place for Birmingham.
I follow Cassidy, my hand at her back, coaxing her through the crowded dance floor, heading toward the back where a set of stairs leads to the VIP lounge on the second floor. I don’t miss the way every man’s eyes follow her.
One by one, I shoot every man looking at her with a glare. One that has one clear meaning: She’s mine.
It might not necessarily be true, but in a way it is. For at least the rest of the season, she’s mine. Maybe not sexually, but mine, nonetheless.
That truth gives me a sense of control beyond anything I could imagine. Who knew that contracting a fake relationship would make me feel like this?
I grind my teeth together while that little voice in my head reminds me this isn’t real, and it won’t last.
“Yo, look who it is,” Mason says, raising a fist that I bump with my own. “And who is this?”
Here we go.
I pull her to my side like I’ve seen some of the other guys do with their girls.
“This is my girlfriend, Cassidy.”
Mason is mid sip when I say this, and the contents of his beer fly out, spraying all over my face.
I close my eyes and count to three, trying to remain calm.
This is the shit I hate about going out.
The noise.
The chaos.
The drunk idiots I call friends.
“Sorry, man,” he yells louder than necessary.
Yep. He’s already had too much. Not the first time.
“I’ll get you something,” Cassidy says, pulling out of my grip and heading toward the bar.
“Jesus, man. You could’ve given us a heads-up.”
I don’t respond, instead opting to take the offered beer from Hudson.
“She’s hot as fuck. Got any friends?” Hudson says. Typical.
This time, I level him with a look, making it real clear with my eyes that I’m not opposed to murder.
“Hudson, I wouldn’t hook you up with one of her friends unless I wanted Cassidy to cut my dick off,” I reply, and Mason snorts.
Hudson has the audacity to act hurt. His bottom lip pouts out like a boy who lost his puppy. “What? I’m a nice guy.”
Mason and I exchange a look. Silently deciding who’s going to explain everything wrong with his comment. I lift my beer and nod for him to take the lead.
“For the first fuck and then you duck,” Mason explains.
Hudson is a great friend and an incredible hockey player. But he’s shit at relationships. He grins before taking a gulp of his own beer. He knows we’re right.
Cassidy returns with a towel. “Here, let me do that,” she says, laying on the whole “girlfriend” role rather thick.
The guys waggle their eyebrows and make obscene gestures while her back is turned.
Morons.
They may be mid-twenties, but they don’t act a day over thirteen. All they think about is hockey, food, and sex.
“Tell us about yourself, Cassie.”