Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The smile that forms on my face is lecherous at worst, sexy at best. Fuck, I want to do her right here on this desk.
Bent over the desk, more precisely.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say, my grin turning more wicked as I round her desk and come to a stop right by her chair. She shuffles her feet, which are in killer black pumps, as she swivels toward me. Her head tilts back and her mouth is slightly open as if she knows she needs to say something but can’t.
Her eyes hold mine for just a moment before they slide down my body to rest right on my crotch, which is about face level with her. There’s no hiding the outline of my dick, which is getting even harder thinking about her blowing me right here.
After I spread her out on her desk and hike that tight skirt up—
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice a mere whisper.
Her eyes are back on mine now and her cheeks are slightly pink. She licks her lower lip and I can’t stop the groan that pops out.
It’s like she’s a gift from heaven. My hand reaches out and curls around her neck, pulling her right up out of her chair. She’s completely compliant and her eyes get a little glassy as I lower my face into hers.
“This is fucking fate,” I mutter just before I kiss her.
She responds instantly, both of her hands gripping my shirt, her nails slightly scoring the material. My dick goes fully hard and I wrap an arm around her back to pull her into me.
Brooke moans into my mouth, and how I ever thought this would be a one-night stand is beyond me. But when we parted and I left her house in the early morning hours, I didn’t ask for her phone number and she didn’t ask for mine. Maybe neither of us did because we were destined to find each other again.
“Do you work here?” I ask her.
“I’m the assistant director of team services,” she replies.
Interesting, but not really. I kiss her again and her tongue slides so sweetly into my mouth.
I pull back slightly and mutter against her mouth, “Please tell me your door has a lock on it, because if it does, I’m going to fuck you really hard and fast bent over that desk of yours.”
Brooke moans but shakes her head, pulling back from me. Her face is flushed and her eyes are guarded with worry. “Seriously…what are you doing here, Bishop?”
“I work here,” I tell her with a laugh. “Sort of. I’m with the Vengeance.”
“With the Vengeance?” she gasps. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m one of the players.” I grin at her as I realize she’s the first woman I’ve fucked in my adult life that didn’t know I was a professional hockey player before we got carnal with each other.
Brooke’s face pales and she groans, but this time it doesn’t sound sexy at all. Her forehead drops to my chest and her fingers flex into my shirt for a moment before they relax.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her as I bring my hands to her hips to give her a slight squeeze of reassurance, although I have no clue what I’m reassuring her of.
She shakes her head, refusing to look at me. “I had no idea.”
“Why would you?” I ask her gently. “Unless you were really, really into hockey, I guess.”
Her head pops up and I really don’t like the look on her face. Her hands flatten on my chest and she tries to push me back. “You need to leave. Like right now. This was a big mistake.”
“Whoa, what the fuck?” I growl at her, completely unwilling to accept that last night was a mistake when it was beyond incredible, and I’d just found her again and realized the real mistake was walking out of her house without getting her phone number.
Or even her last name for that matter.
My hand slides to her lower back, and I pull her into me so she can feel my cock. The pressure she’s putting on my chest relaxes a bit, but I sense she’s conflicted.
Before she can decide what she really wants, the door to her office opens. Both our heads snap that way and Brooke gives a tiny gasp of distress.
My jaw tightens over the intrusion, but my eyes widen in shock when I see Claude Perron standing there.
The new head coach for the Vengeance.
“Daddy,” Brooke says with what sounds like panic in her voice as she scrambles out of my embrace.
I gape as my head snaps Brooke’s way, but I don’t even have time to focus on her. It’s moving back to her father, who has entered the office, slammed the door shut behind him, and is demanding of me, “What in the fuck are you doing with your hands on my daughter?”