Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I’m sure there will be plenty willing.
“This is where monogamy sucks,” Hendrix mutters.
Kirill looks at him with sympathy. “My condolences.”
I agree. This is where monogamy sucks. Good thing I don’t have that problem. Having been with Crystal for most of my hockey career, I never really got to go out and have fun with my teammates. I mean, sure… beers and partying, but I never got the spoils of victory in the form of hot women willing to jump into bed for a one-night stand.
Kirill loops his arm over my shoulder. “We’ll have a blast tonight. I know a great bar that will be filled to the brim with gorgeous, loose women. It will be like picking fruit off the tree.”
“Can’t wait.”
It’s exactly what I need.
May not be what I want—that would be Brienne—but I definitely need it.
I start to remove my sweater when I notice a small, square envelope taped to the back of my cubby. It has my name on it, handwritten in blue ink.
After pulling it free, I rip into it and pull out a folded piece of paper.
Room #9391. If you want to stick it to the league again.
Jesus.
Brienne.
I feel like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs and I’m absolutely frozen, except for my dick stirring. The euphoria from the win fades, replaced with clawing hunger.
I look around, half expecting her to be in the room, despite all the undressed men, and watching me for my reaction. Of course, she’s not here, and I read the note one more time.
Apparently, she’s not bent out of shape about me comparing fucking her to fucking the league and she clearly knows it was in jest.
“I’m going to take a rain check,” I say, staring intently at the note, wondering when she put it here.
I turn to look at Kirill and brace for the disappointment. “Dude… come on. We’re going to be each other’s wingmen.”
Grinning, I shake my head. “I don’t need a wingman. I’m sorry that you do. I’m sure Hendrix will help you out.”
“It will be the only excitement I’m getting tonight,” he mutters.
I want to tell him if he hates being tied down so much, drop the woman, but I hold my tongue. My thoughts on relationships are very different from most.
Hendrix might be bitching and moaning, but he liked the girl enough to give up other women. That involves some trust, something I don’t have.
It fucking takes forever for everyone to shower, dress, and board the bus back to our hotel. Players disperse as soon as they step foot onto the sidewalk, but I head inside.
Through the lobby and directly to the elevator where I press the button for the ninth floor.
I’m not surprised room 9391 is at the corner of the building and bears a door plaque that says Presidential Suite A. Must be more than one, probably at each corner.
There’s even a doorbell, so I press it.
The door swings open, and Brienne stands there, still wearing the same pantsuit she had on at the game, except her heels are off.
She steps back and waves me in.
I don’t enter, instead tossing my duffel inside on the floor and reaching out to hold on to the door casing with both hands. I lean in slightly.
“I’d prefer you greet me in these situations wearing nothing,” I say.
Her eyebrows shoot upward. “Is that so?”
I nod. “Take off your clothes.”
“Close the door, and I will.”
“Nah,” I say with a smirk. “Get naked, then I’ll come in.”
I expect her to balk. It’s not cool that I’m here at the owner’s hotel room, even if I have an invitation. We’re flirting with some ethical lines.
Someone could come along any minute and see me loitering.
She doesn’t hesitate, though. Her fingers work the jacket she’s wearing. It slips to the marble floor, revealing a translucent cream blouse. Ignoring that, Brienne undoes a button at the side of her pants and lets those pool around her feet. She steps backward out of them, as if to draw me into her lair.
My eyes watch greedily as she removes the blouse, holding it out and releasing it so it flutters to join the rest of her ensemble.
Christ, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, standing with her shoulders back and not a shy bone in her beautiful body.
Her hands reach for the clasp at the front of her bra, but I say, “Don’t.”
My throat is dry, my words raspy and needful.
I step into the room, let the door close behind me, and walk to her.
More like crash into her as my hands go to her face and I pull her to her toes for a blistering kiss. A long growl vibrates out of me as her hands go to my jacket.
She tries to tug it off, but I have to break the kiss to help her. As soon as I do, her hands abandon the jacket and work at my belt. My cock hardened about the time she slipped out of her pants, but the frantic way she’s trying to get at it makes me ache.