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)
If only that were the only one, but the problem goes deeper. “It’s not practical to keep it going.”
She smirks. “Sex is never practical.”
I ignore it. “Now that the boys are here, I can’t see her. We can only really make away games work, and she doesn’t go to all of them.”
It irritates me like a kid denied his candy that Brienne has to go out of the country and miss the next away game. I know that’s ridiculous.
“Why only away games? And what do the boys have to do with it?”
I look at her as if she’s grown two heads. “I’m a single dad, Kiera.”
“You say that as if your life is over and you can’t do anything for yourself.”
Well, I can’t. I don’t think. “They’re my priority.”
“That’s all well and good, but let’s take tonight for example. The boys are asleep. I’m here watching over them. You can either go to bed alone, or you can go to bed with Brienne. The kids won’t know if you’re here or not tonight.”
I point my thumb at my chest. “But I’ll know.”
Kiera rolls her eyes. She does that with me a lot. “If you want to be a martyr because your crazy ex-bitch left you holding all the responsibility for Jake, Colby, and Tanner, by all means… knock yourself out.”
A flush of anger wells in me. I don’t like the term martyr. “What does that even mean?”
“It means Crystal is in the past. Your life is now. You are a single dad with three great kids and an amazing, stupendously gifted, and gorgeous sister helping you. You are a good man. You deserve happiness, and while I know hockey and the boys bring you great joy, there’s more to life than that. You need to take it for yourself.”
Outside the accolades she gives herself—which, fine, are deserved—Kiera’s words hit me like I took a puck to the face without my mask.
Take something for myself? “Just go over there?” I ask. “Get my booty call.”
“You get whatever you want, Drake. Get your rocks off, take her out to dinner, or—”
“We wouldn’t be dating,” I interrupt.
“Because of the whole team-owner-screwing-a-hockey-player drama that would create?”
“Because I don’t want to date. I don’t want a relationship.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
“I mean it.”
Kiera holds up her hands. “Fine. You don’t want a relationship.”
“I don’t,” I confirm, my shoulders set in staunch defiance.
“Fuck buddies to the end,” she proclaims.
“Damn straight.” I stand from the table and reach into my pocket for my phone.
I shoot off a text, and for once, I keep the message simple and outside the purview of our usual inside joke. Can I come over?
Immediately, the three little dots flash, indicating an imminent response.
I hold my breath until one word flashes on my screen: Yes.
CHAPTER 20
Brienne
Drake makes it his mission to destroy me with an orgasm, and while I don’t ever believe that a man can just order a woman to do it on command, I’m clearly ready when he growls in my ear, “I need you to come on my dick right now, Bri.”
And I do.
Oh, how I do.
Like, in a way that shreds me into fragments that feel as though I’ll never get put back together again.
“Fuck yes,” he snarls as he gathers me in tight thrusts to the hilt and shudders as he comes. His face buried in my neck, he says, “So fucking good.”
And the rolling timbre of his voice tinged with reverence, and maybe a bit of awe, sends another ripple coursing through me. I involuntarily contract around him, and he grinds against me.
“Jesus.” He chuckles, biting my shoulder. “Make it stop.”
“Never,” I gasp in offense.
Drake rolls us to our sides so we’re facing each other, keeping an arm wrapped around my back so we’re locked tight. I feel him twitch inside me.
He looks around my bedroom, eyes coming back to me. “At least we made it to your bed this time. I’m learning to control myself around you.”
I pout. “Party pooper.”
Laughing, he leans in to kiss me but instead bites my lower lip. Not hard, but not sweet either. A sizzle of lust spears through me, and it’s boggling that I want him again already.
I roll my hips, hiking my leg over his. I flex my muscles, squeezing him, and he hisses. “That’s a good way to get yourself fucked again.”
“Oh, the tragedy,” I moan dramatically. “Whatever will I do?”
“Smart-ass,” he says, gripping one butt cheek in his big hand and squeezing before kissing me.
And not a bite to the lip or a playful kiss, but a deep, toe-curling exploration of my mouth. When he lifts, it’s to rub his nose along mine, and with a sigh, he rolls off and onto his back.
The loss of him between my legs is a stark reminder that we have to come back down to earth at some point. I’m so glad he came over tonight, even if we have nothing but stolen minutes.