Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Without thinking, without asking, I pulled out my camera. I took only enough time to adjust a couple settings for the low light before I snapped a photo of him.
He chuckled. “Okay, not the kind of shot I was referring to, but I guess it’s better than the alternative.”
“Sorry,” I said, looking down at the camera in my hands.
Why did I suddenly feel shy, as if I’d seen him fully naked or indisposed?
Maybe it was because that little corner of creation felt like the most vulnerable part of him, and I’d walked right into it without warning.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I imagine that’s something I’ll need to get used to for this…” He waved his hand in the air. “Whole ordeal. Pictures and videos when I least expect them.”
I offered a smile. “I should have warned you. I just…” I paused, rolling my lips together before I pointed at the mug in his hand. “You made that, didn’t you?”
He didn’t even look down. “I did.”
“It’s beautiful.”
I said the words before I thought better of them, and he cocked a brow in surprise.
That. That was why I much preferred to be thought of as a bitch than anything else. Because in one moment, with just a touch of softness showing, I’d exposed my neck. And now, Vince was looking at me like his prey rather than his opponent.
I slung my camera around my neck, sniffing and tearing my gaze from his as I looked around. “Anyway, I guess just… go about your usual routine. I’ll ask questions when I have them, and take a lot of pictures and videos. When I know your schedule better, I’d like to steal you for some interviews, and maybe some fluff content for the podcast. If there’s ever anything you’re doing that you don’t want on camera, make sure to tell me beforehand.”
“So I can request things to be off the record?” he asked, and I didn’t miss the salacious smile that accompanied that comment.
I ignored him, carefully placing my bag on the edge of his couch before I pulled out what I needed — pens, notebook, laptop, phone.
“What time do you expect we’ll head out?”
Vince set his mug on the island before sliding his hands into his pockets. That motion perfectly framed an area of him I was very much trying not to look at, a feat that was increasingly hard considering the thin material of the pants he wore. Add that to the fact that he had massive thighs straining against the fabric, and an ass so rock solid he didn’t even have to turn around for me to notice, and it was a miracle I kept my eyes on his.
“Practice is at ten, so we’ll walk over at about half-past eight.”
“Great,” I said, swallowing and picking up my notebook to write down a few notes about his condo. “Just pretend like I’m not here.”
“Easier said than done when you look like that.”
I blinked, turning to find him wearing that cocky grin again, his eyes trailing the length of me in that slow, carefree way they loved to do so much.
“This is a professional relationship, Mr. Tanev,” I said with what I hoped was more resolve than I felt.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, crossing the space between us in just a few smooth, slow strides.
He walked until he was less than a foot from me before he stopped, close enough that I could feel his body heat like the uncomfortably warm sensation of standing too close to a fire.
When I didn’t back down, Vince smiled at me, his eyes bouncing between mine.
Then, he pressed a hand to the bare skin over his heart. “Promise.”
Break the Internet
Maven
“Is your head spinning yet?”
I chuffed out a laugh, writing notes frantically in my phone as I followed the Tampa Ospreys’ Executive Director around. We had finished our tour of the arena, landing back in the rink after she took me through the locker rooms, training areas, the team gym, the kitchen and cafeteria, and the executive suite. It had taken nearly the entire hour of practice, but the team was still out on the ice, and I finished the note I was writing on my phone before switching it to video mode so I could get some content.
“Yes,” I admitted to Mrs. Lopez. “But in the best way.”
She smiled, but her hand shot out to stop me before I could make my way up to the bench where the players sat during the games so I could get an unobstructed shot of the guys on the ice.
“Be careful,” she warned. “Behind this glass, you’re safe.” She knocked on the glass as if to illustrate her point. “But out there, you’ve got to be aware. Trust me when I say you don’t want a puck to the jaw.”