Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“I’m claiming temporary insanity,” she sniffed. “That being said, I might have taken a tiny peek at the website for season ticket info.”
He chuckled into the darkness, but the sound dissolved into a hiss when she found a particularly sore spot just beneath his towel. “You don’t need season tickets, you’ve got me. Even when I, uh . . . even when I’m no longer playing, I’ll have standing tickets.”
She massaged him in silence for a moment. “Do you think that’ll be . . . soon?”
“Me not playing anymore?”
“Yes.”
He struggled through the uneasy feeling he got whenever the subject of retirement came up. It was more prevalent than usual because Tallulah was there. He wanted this woman to believe he was made of steel, but maybe that hope was as unrealistic as scoring another MVP trophy at thirty-seven. “Tonight . . . did it seem to you like it might be time for me to bow out?”
Gradually, her hands stopped moving.
Here it was. The moment she broke her opinion to him gently.
Burgess waited, tensed.
“Are you serious?” She sounded kind of stunned, as if the answer should be obvious. Oh shit, this was going to be worse than he thought. “You were . . . amazing out there. I don’t know anything about hockey, but I know the other team would have scored a bunch of goals if you weren’t standing in front of the goalie like a brick wall. No one got past you. I couldn’t . . .” He heard her swallow. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And not just because I know you. I genuinely couldn’t figure out how you were anticipating the other players so far in advance. It made me pity Lissa’s future significant others.”
Burgess couldn’t draw breath.
There was a fuzzy ripple passing through his ribs that he didn’t know how to handle.
“I mean . . .” He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to rub at the too-light sensation. “One person got past me. They scored a goal.”
“Oh wow.” The sarcasm was evident. “Your goalie had to do his job one measly time. He should be giving you half his salary.”
A crack of laughter got free. “Tallulah . . .”
He didn’t know what to do with his hands.
His arms crossed over his chest and dropped, the right one lifting to smooth his beard unnecessarily. “Okay. I . . . okay. It’s not your job to fix my ego.”
“Who damaged your ego in the first place?” Honestly, now she sounded kind of pissed? Burgess twisted around to look at her over his shoulder and yeah, he could confirm. She looked adorably miffed. His heart pounded harder. “Who, Burgess? Who did this to you?”
“I’ve lost a step. It’s common knowledge.”
“Well maybe you had a couple steps to spare!” she sputtered.
His heart pumped in a drawn-out beat. “What?”
“Maybe now everyone is a little closer to your level, but they’re not on it.” She was rubbing his shoulders almost angrily now. “Like I said, I might not be a sports enthusiast, especially when the sweatshirts are seventy-five dollars, but I have eyes.”
Maybe you had a couple steps to spare.
No amount of personal pep talks or coaching had given him as much insight into how his own brain worked as those eight off-the-cuff words. Because that not only made total sense to him, it was the one thing that made him feel . . . relaxed. Like maybe there wasn’t a guillotine waiting above his neck, poised to fall. For the first time, he wondered if maybe . . . he was being too hard on himself—and that was difficult to admit, because he made a living being hard on himself.
Right. That’s how he’d succeeded.
“Thank you. For saying that. But . . .” He gave a concise headshake. “I’m not going to start taking it easy on myself now, Tallulah.”
Again, her hands suspended in their treatment of his back.
Then they left him completely.
Goddammit, he’d spoken too harshly. Cut her off at the knees when she was just trying to help. What was wrong with him? He was in the act of formulating an apology when Tallulah slipped off the bed to his right, paused a moment, then slowly moved to stand in front of him. Close. Right there, in between his outstretched thighs.
He stopped breathing.
“Maybe if you won’t take it easy on yourself, you need someone to do it for you.”
Off came the sweatshirt.
Time stood fucking still as he registered the sight of her in nothing but a pair of black silky panties. As in, not a bra in sight. And he’d been more than aware that his au pair was hot as sin. Tallulah, though? The word “hot” didn’t begin to do justice to a body that could spoil a man fucking rotten. There wasn’t a dude alive that had done enough good in his lifetime to deserve the chance to touch her, but he’d make up for this shortage of goodwill later, because he was too busy staring at her sexy tits, all golden and sweet, like they wanted a bite taken out of them. It was almost painful to tear his attention away from them to memorize the rest of her, the nip of her waist, the flare of her hips and the snug fit of her underwear. Those thighs.