Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Or maybe they wouldn’t. It’s not like I’ve been seeing a crazy amount of ice time since I was called up from the farm team to the pros. I’m still trying to prove myself to my coach and teammates. Though I did get an assist last game, which was cool.
But a goal would’ve been cooler.
“Yeah, a sweet thing like that would be too intimidated,” Mr. Rolex informs me. “Odds of you getting her number are…twenty to one.”
His buddies agree. “That’s a twenty-five percent chance,” one says. Because again, their math is nonsensical.
“What if I want more than her number?” I challenge.
The blond snickers. “You want to know your odds of going home with her? A hundred to one.”
I gaze at the brunette again. She’s wearing black suede ankle boots with chunky heels, one leg crossed over the other as she daintily sips her drink. She’s cute as hell.
“Two hundred bucks says I get her to stick her tongue down my throat in less than five minutes,” I boast with an arrogant smirk.
My new friends bust out in incredulous laughter.
“Uh, sure, bro.” Mr. Rolex chuckles. “In case you haven’t noticed, the women in this joint are pure class. Not a single one would hook up with you in public.”
I’m already dropping two hundreds on the counter. “Scared of my sexual prowess, huh?” I mock.
“Ha! Fine then. I’ll bite,” the blond guy says, placing two bills on top of mine. “Go ahead and get your ass rejected, Loverboy.”
I pick up my glass and drain the rest of my beer. “Liquid courage,” I tell the trio, and Mr. Rolex rolls his eyes. “Now watch and learn.”
Winking, I amble off.
Instantly, her attention fixes on me. A hint of a smile, albeit soft with shyness, tugs at her mouth. Fuck, she’s got nice lips. Full and pink and glossy.
When our gazes lock, it’s as if everyone else in the bar disappears. Her brown eyes are pretty and expressive, and right now they’re expressing a sweet hunger that quickens my pulse. I’m trapped in her orbit, my legs speeding up of their own volition.
A second later I’m beside her, greeting her with a rough, “Hey.”
“Hi,” she replies.
She has to tilt her head to look at me, because she’s seated and I’m towering over her. I was always a big guy, but I’ve bulked up even more since I started playing hockey at a higher level. Skating in the pros is physically demanding.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I offer.
She lifts her full glass. “No, thank you. I’ve already got one.”
“Then I’ll buy your next one.”
“There won’t be a next one. I don’t trust myself.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m a lightweight. One drink makes me tipsy.” Her lips curve slightly. “Two drinks make me do bad things.”
Damned if my dick doesn’t twitch at that. “How bad?” I drawl.
Although she blushes, she doesn’t shy away from the question. “Very bad.”
I grin at her, then flag the bartender with a fast, exaggerated gesture. “Another drink for the lady,” I call.
She laughs, and the melodic sound sends prickles of sensation through me. I’m insanely attracted to her.
Rather than take the empty stool beside her, I remain standing. But I do edge closer, and her knee lightly brushes my hip. I swear I hear her breath hitch at the slight contact.
I glance over and spot my new friends watching us with deep interest. Mr. Rolex taps his watch dramatically as if to remind me the clock is ticking.
“So, listen…” I bring my lips close to her ear so she can hear me. This time I see her breath hitch. Her perky breasts rise as she sucks in air. “My buddies gave me a twenty-five percent chance of getting your number.”
Her eyes dance devilishly. “Wow. They don’t have much faith in you, huh? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ve beaten greater odds than that. But…lemme tell you a secret…” My mouth brushes her earlobe as I whisper, “I don’t want your number.”
She jolts in surprise, her gaze snapping to mine. “You don’t?”
“Nope.”
“Then what do you want?” She picks up her drink and takes a hasty sip.
I think it over for a moment. “I want to kiss you.”
A startled laugh now. “Uh-huh. You’re just saying that because you hope I’ll do it, and then you can prove to your friends you’re not a loser.”
I look over my shoulder again. Mr. Rolex wears a self-satisfied smirk. He taps his watch again. Tick-tock.
My five minutes are almost up. My own watch tells me I’ve only got two left.
“No,” I tell her. “That’s not why I want to kiss you.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” I lick my bottom lip. “I want to kiss you because you’re the hottest woman in this bar.” I shrug. “And anyway, it’s obvious you want the same thing.”
“Says who?” she challenges.
“Says the fact that you haven’t stopped staring at my mouth since I walked over here.”