Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Hayden is visiting us from San Francisco,” Presley explained. “She teaches art at Berkeley.”
“Art history, Dad,” she corrected.
Presley waved a dismissive hand. “Same difference.”
“What position do you play?” Hayden asked, her voice casual, neutral, as if she were addressing a complete stranger.
“Brody’s a left-winger,” Presley answered for him. “He’s one of our best players. A superstar.”
“Oh. Sounds exciting,” she said mildly.
Presley cut in once more. “It is. Right, Brody?”
Before Brody could answer, someone else snagged her dad’s attention. “There’s Stan. Excuse me for a moment.” He quickly marched away.
Hayden’s mouth curved mischievously. “Don’t mind him. He often takes over conversations only to leave you standing in his dust.” Her smile faded. “But you probably already knew that, seeing as you play for his team.”
“Does that bother you?” Brody asked carefully.
“Of course not,” she lied. “Why would it?”
“You tell me.”
She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my father about what happened between us last night.”
“Okay, so you do remember.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “I was starting to think you’d put it out of your mind completely.”
Sure. Like that was even possible. She’d thought about nothing but this man and his talented tongue all day.
“I haven’t forgotten.” Her voice lowered. “But that doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”
“I think you do.”
The arrogance in his tone both annoyed her and thrilled her. Like, how hadn’t she figured out he was a hockey player last night? The man practically had pro athlete branded into his forehead. He was cocky, confident, larger-than-life. Something told her he was the kind of man who knew exactly what he wanted and did everything in his power to get it.
And what he wanted at the moment, disconcerting as it was, seemed to be her.
“Brody—”
“Don’t bother denying it. I rocked your world last night and you can’t wait for me to do it again.”
She snorted. “There’s nothing like a man with a healthy ego.”
“I like it when you snort. It’s cute.”
“Don’t call me cute.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate it. Babies and bunny rabbits are cute. I’m a grown woman. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he said, blinking innocently.
“Like you’re imagining me naked.”
“I can’t help it. I am imagining you naked.”
His eyes darkened to a sensual glitter, and liquid heat promptly pooled between her thighs. She tried not to squeeze her legs together. She didn’t want him seeing the effect he had on her.
“Have a drink with me tonight,” he said suddenly.
The word no slipped out more quickly than she’d intended.
His features creased with what looked like frustration. He stepped closer, causing her to dart a glance in her father’s direction. Presley was standing at the end of the hall, engaged in deep conversation with Stan Gray, the Warriors’ head coach. While her dad seemed oblivious to the sparks shooting between her and Brody, Hayden still felt uncomfortable having this discussion in view of her father.
It didn’t help that Brody looked so damn edible in gray wool pants that hugged his muscular legs, and a black button-down that stretched across his chest. And his wet hair… She forced herself to stop staring at those damp strands, knowing that if she allowed herself to imagine him in the shower, naked, she might just come on the spot.
“One drink,” he insisted with a charming grin. “You know, for old times’ sake.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve known each other for all of twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, but it was a very wild twenty-four hours, wouldn’t you say?” He moved closer and lowered his head, his lips inches from her ear, his warm breath fanning across her neck. “How many times did you come again, Hayden? Three? Four?”
“Five,” she squeezed out, then quickly looked around to make sure nobody had heard her.
Her entire body started to throb from the memory. That she could experience arousal in a hallway full of people—one of them her father—made her blush with embarrassment.
“Five.” He nodded briskly. “I haven’t lost my touch.”
She resisted the urge to groan. He was too damn sure of himself, which gave him a definite advantage, because at the moment she wasn’t sure of anything.
Except the fact that she wanted to tear off her clothes and hop right back into bed with Brody Croft.
But nope, she wouldn’t do it. Sleeping with him again had Bad Idea written all over it. It had all been much simpler last night, when he’d just been an exciting stranger.
But now… Now he was real. Even worse, he was a hockey player. She’d grown up around enough hockey players to know how they lived—the constant traveling, the media, the eager women lining up to jump into bed with them.
Not to mention that Brody was so…arrogant, flirtatious, bold. Yesterday it had added to the allure of sex with a stranger. Today it was a reminder of why she’d decided bad boys no longer played a part in her life.