Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
His coat covers his lap. We’re tucked into a booth in the very back corner of the diner. No one can see what’s happening under the table.
I can’t believe what’s happening under the table.
Hollis better not have a foot fetish. At least I think I hope he doesn’t have a foot fetish. I mean, I’m not opposed to foot rubs, but I don’t want to give him the foot version of a handy. Or have him try to stick his foot in my lady business. That’s definitely not my kink. But having him hold my foot against his hard cock under the table with my dad and my date right beside us might very well do it for me based on the way my nipples tighten and everything clenches below the waist. Also, my toes curl.
“What do you think, Pegs?”
“Huh?” My gaze snaps to my dad.
“Bowman’s having a great season with New York, but so is Grace. Who’s a more likely trade?”
“Grace. He’s a hothead on the ice, and Bowman is methodical and levelheaded. If they’re willing to trade one player, it’ll be Grace, but only if it’s evenly matched.”
“But Grace has more years on the ice,” Jameson argues.
“That’s one factor.” Hollis gives his two cents. “But it’s about more than experience. Bowman is all about the team, and Grace has been known to pull stupid moves because his ego demands it.” Hollis’s thumb slides between my foot and his bulge, and he runs it firmly along my instep.
I cough into the crook of my elbow to cover my moan. His hands feel huge.
“Hollis makes a good point.” Dad glances at my plate. “Is your appetite still off, honey?”
I look down. All I’ve managed to eat is one maple-syrup-drenched sausage. “Oh, uh, no. Just savoring today, I guess.”
Hollis taps the top of my foot. His hand reappears as I drop my foot and slip it back into my shoe, but not before my toe lands in a wet spot on the floor.
I spend the rest of my date trying to eat while my stomach flip-flops all over the place. There is definitely a conversation coming with Hollis. My dad pays for the entire meal and, because he can’t help himself, invites Jameson to a home game. Jameson is all smiles and excitement. As we finish up, Hollis stands off to the side with his hands in his pockets, looking as annoyed as I feel.
When we get back out to the sidewalk, Jameson hugs me, but thankfully doesn’t go in for any kind of kiss on the cheek with my dad and Hollis standing guard.
“I’ll text you later, okay?” He’s all shy smiles again.
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
I wave as he disappears down the stairs to the subway.
“He’s a nice young man,” Dad says.
“Yeah, you two got along like a house on fire.” He’s oblivious to my irritation, and everything else apparently, but I have bigger issues to deal with. Namely, his best friend.
“I have to run to the store and pick up a few things. Do either of you need anything?”
“Nope,” Hollis and I reply at the same time.
“Okay. If you think of anything, just message.”
He strides down the street, and Hollis and I walk silently back to our building. He holds the door open, and we don’t say a word until we’re alone in the elevator.
“What in the actual fuck, Hollis?”
He leans against the rail. “I didn’t know you were going to the diner.”
“This is about way more than the diner.” I cross my arms. “You don’t get to kiss me, tell me it’s a mistake, and shove me into the arms of someone else you deem more age appropriate, then act like a territorial ass and ruin the fucking date you sent me on!” I snap.
“You’re—”
I hold up a hand. “I’m not done.” The elevator stops, and the doors slide open.
An adorable elderly couple gets on with us. As usual, we talk about the weather. When we reach my floor, I give Hollis a pointed look, and he gets off the elevator with me.
“Do you have a foot fetish or something?” I whisper-hiss once the doors close behind us.
He raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“What? No. You were the one rubbing my foot on your dick, not the other way around.” I hate how good it felt to have him touching me though.
“You were playing footsies with me under the table,” he reminds me.
“You crashed my date, Hollis!” I’m so furious, and turned on, and confused. “You either want me or you don’t.”
The smirk slides off his face. “It’s not that simple, Princess.”
I stalk down the hall, and he falls into step beside me.
“Isn’t it, though? You can’t play head games with me. It’s not fair.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“You’re saying one thing and doing the opposite. I’m pretty sure that’s the working definition of head games.”