Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll find your phone.”
“I wish your optimism was infectious.”
He shot a smile at me. “Maybe my good luck will rub off on you.”
“You think you’re lucky?”
“I know I am.” He pushed up his shirt, revealing his six-pack as he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Wanna rub my cock for good luck?”
I snorted with laughter. “It’s not a rabbit’s foot, you idiot.”
“No, but I made you laugh.” He lowered his shirt as we walked outside. “Relax a little, would you? I hear being uptight all the time leads to a shorter life span.”
“And where did you hear that?”
He shrugged. “For someone who had multiple orgasms last night, you’re so tense.”
“I can’t even remember last night to know if I had multiple orgasms.”
“Please, we both know you did.”
“How so?”
“Name a time I didn’t give them to you.”
He had me there.
I pursed my lips, keeping my eyes on the Vegas strip.
“You know I’m right. So lighten up already. We won’t survive three months like this.”
“I’m not the cold-hearted bitch you think I am.”
“No? Could have fooled me with all the pity parties you throw every time I’m around.”
“Maybe it’s because I don’t like you,” I said matter of fact.
“Nope. You try not to like me. But what really pisses you off is that you do like me. And you do everything in your power to convince yourself of that.”
Maybe he was right. A long time ago, I thought I was in love with Will. It was too soon after my divorce, and I was so desperate for attention and affection from a man. I just wanted him to love me. For someone to love me. And that was the problem.
“I don’t know how to be around you when I’m sober,” I confessed.
“Just try being yourself. I like you when you’re not all up in your head and getting weird on me.”
“I do not know what that means.”
“You’re all business all the time.”
“I take my job seriously.”
“Well, you’re not working right now, wifey. So lower your walls a smidge.”
I blew out a deep breath as we dodged a group of drunken boys. They looked too young to drink, let alone be on the strip by themselves at this hour.
“Reminds me of my twenty-first birthday,” Will said as we passed them. “I came here with a few of my teammates from college. We drank our weight in beer for an entire weekend.” He smiled at the memory. “Good times.”
“You still do that and you’re almost thirty years old.”
“Not quite,” he challenged. “I’m a saint during the season.”
“Really? Then how come I saw you in pics with three women at a club in Seattle a few months ago?”
He waved his hand. “That was nothing. Just a few fans.”
“They were on your lap. One girl had her tongue shoved down your throat.”
Will looked away from me, toward the street crowded with taxis. Why were so many people out at this hour? I would have thought they would sleep off their hangovers until the afternoon.
“Look, Clarke, I won’t bullshit you. I have earned my nickname. But I want to make this work. I need this to work between us.”
“I feel like I’m getting the shitty end of the deal.”
“You get me. Isn’t that good enough?”
I rolled my eyes.
“We’re good together,” he insisted. “You don’t see it, but I always have. And when you’re not mad at me, you look really pretty.”
“Stop trying to charm your way into my pants.”
“I don’t need charms to get you out of those granny panties.”
I snickered. “I do not wear granny panties, thank you very much.”
“Then what do you call those things you always wear?”
“Boy shorts. They’re comfortable.”
“Time to step out of your comfortable zone, baby.”
“You’re not even seeing my underwear. So shut your mouth.”
“Please. We’re married. You think you’ll last three months without fucking me?”
“Wanna find out?”
He smirked. “New deal?”
“Oh, yeah. Whoever can hold out the longest wins.”
“I’m down. What’s at stake?”
“You can’t jerk off,” I told him. “If we’re doing this, neither of us can have an orgasm.”
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Fine. Whatever. I try not to orgasm during the season, anyway.”
I shot him a confused look. “Why not?”
“Because orgasms make me tired. And too much dopamine fucks with my stamina when I’m on the ice.”
“There’s no way you can go an entire season without sex.”
“I don’t.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Then what’s the secret?”
“You can have sex and not orgasm.”
“So, you don’t come?”
“I do. You can have a release without an orgasm.”
“Women invented faking orgasms,” I pointed out.
“You never faked it with me.”
I gave him a challenging look. “How would you know?”
“Because I know your body like my own.”
We were silent for a moment before I asked, “What were you like in high school? I bet you had lots of girlfriends.”
I figured after all these years, and a fake marriage later, we should get to know each other. The media would ask us about our relationship, pick apart every detail of our lives.