Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Startled gasps reverberate through the room, and I feel heat creep up my neck. Suddenly, my fingernails become very interesting. It’s been a while since I had a manicure…
I can feel one gaze boring into me, and it’s coming from beside me on the beanbag chair. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Jamie asks, his voice low.
“Me?” I squeak, picking at a cuticle. “That tequila has gone to your head, baby bro.”
The game resumes, thank God. My brother’s focus shifts elsewhere. And since Wes has a great night on the ice, Jamie is sloppy drunk by the time we get into separate cabs to go home.
I lie in my bed and wonder if Blake’s interest in dating me has survived another night.
It’s eleven thirty when my phone chirps. How’s my girl?
The words warm me all the way through.
Drunk and sleepy, I tell him. Nice assist, hot stuff.
The phone rings, and I answer it immediately. “You watched again?” he says, his voice making me smile.
“Yeah,” I answer, shy all of a sudden. “There was some rum involved.”
He laughs. “Did Jamie drag you over to Katie Hewitt’s?”
“He did.”
“Did you do a shot for my assist?”
Uh-oh. “I didn’t,” I admit.
There’s a brief silence, and I expect him to give me a hard time about it. “That’s okay,” he says cheerfully. “You can make it up to me by coming to lunch with my family this Sunday.”
“Blake,” I warn. “Didn’t you tell your mother we broke up?”
“Nope. Because we didn’t.”
“Is this another you-need-a-buffer-with-your-ex situation?” I ask warily.
“Nah. Molly shouldn’t be there. It’s just an ordinary Sunday with the fam.”
“Then why do you need me there?”
I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Because we’re dating. That’s what dating people do. They hang out with each other’s families. The food will be epic. And you told me you always see your family on the weekend. You can see mine instead. It’ll be nice. And since we don’t get back into town until Saturday night, Sunday is your first chance to visit with the Blake Snake anyway.”
I give an unladylike snort. “The… Did you just call your dick the Blake Snake?”
“Well, you haven’t named it yet. Unless we’re going with ‘Do me, Blake! Harder! Yes! Yes! Yes!’”
Even though I’m lying here alone, I have to put my hand over my eyes. His impression of me was frighteningly accurate.
And really, after all the orgasms he’s given me, the least I can do is go to lunch.
So when he says “See you Sunday, baby,” I hear myself agree.
Chapter 26
Triple Entendres
Blake
“Do I look like someone who just had sex in the parking lot behind a gas station?”
I give Jess a thorough once-over. Tousled hair—check. Sexed-up flush on her cheeks—check. Beard burn on her neck—check. Oh yeah, that’s what I like to see.
“Naw,” I answer. “You look like my girlfriend.”
Humor dances in her brown eyes. “And just out of curiosity, what does Blake Riley’s girlfriend look like?”
I reach over and tweak one still-hard nipple through her shirt. “Well fucked.”
Jess groans in frustration. “Okay, pull over at the next gas station so I can use the bathroom to clean myself up.”
“Is that really a risk you’re willing to take, J-Babe? You know what happens when we go to gas stations.”
Hell, I don’t think I can ever pump gas again without thinking about pumping Jess. Seeing her fill up the tank of my Hummer was such a turn-on, I had to take her right there and then. Well, not right there. I had the decency to drive to the deserted lot behind the Petro-Canada before I ravished her.
Now we’re back on the road, making the twenty-minute drive to my folks’ place for lunch. I know she’s nervous about it, because she keeps fidgeting in the passenger seat. Me, I’m looking forward to seeing the fam and eating a home-cooked meal. This last week of road games was exhausting, and I’m sick of hotel room service.
“Just don’t make any inappropriate double entendres when we’re there,” Jess warns as I speed off the highway exit ramp.
“How about triple entendres?”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Single entendres?”
“Also not a thing.”
“Everything’s a thing if you make it a thing,” I disagree.
She sighs. “I’m going to dump you one of these days.”
I cast her my most innocent smile. “No, you’re not.” And my inner Blake—who I like to imagine is holding a tiny hockey stick—does a happy flip because her remark implies that I’ve finally worn her down. We’re dating and she knows it. You can’t dump someone you aren’t dating.
“BLAKEY!” Mom shouts happily when Jess and I enter the house five minutes later. We caught her on her way to the dining room, judging by the two aluminum foil–covered dishes in her hands.
“Hey, Ma.” I glide over to kiss her cheek, then rid her of both casserole dishes. “Lemme help.”