Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
So I did the one thing that I could think of that would be taking their advice while also irritating the fuck out of them. I found a new hotel selling penthouse suites and bought one. In Sin City.
“Holy shit. Look at this,” Blakely says, getting to the other end of the sitting area.
The far side opens into an airy atrium. The ceilings are high, opening to the loft above it, and it’s enclosed on two sides by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Strip. A long white marble table sits in the center of the room. I have no idea its purpose because the kitchen is on the far side of the suite, but it came with the place.
Blakely stops at the glass wall and stares across the sea of buildings and flashing lights.
“Wait until it’s dark,” I say. “It’s even more impressive then.”
“I don’t know how it could be. Just look at that.” She motions toward the outside, eyes sparkling. “It’s like you’re in a castle up here. It’s incredible.”
Her excitement delivers a satisfaction that knocks me sideways.
When I first met Blakely, she was dating Edward fucking DiNozzo—a giant asshole who didn’t deserve her. We’ve played on the same team a couple of times. He’s the worst. I sat across from her at dinner that night, trying not to stare.
She was timid that evening, anxious even. It was like she was a woman dying to contribute more to the conversation but was afraid the world would burn down if she did. It was a challenge that night to get her to laugh. Granted, I wanted to make it happen to piss off a haughty DiNozzo just as much as I wanted to hear it for myself. But once she gave it to me—a bright, head-thrown-back giggle, I made it my mission to get her to respond like that as often as I could.
And it got easier every time we saw one another. Granted, it was only a few times a year. After she ended things with DiNozzo, being around her on my trips home was even better. She was fun, inquisitive, and so fucking sweet. We could sit and talk all night long and have it feel like an hour.
Things might've gotten interesting back then if I hadn’t been working halfway across the world. Now that we’re both in Nashville? Things could get interesting.
“Come on, cutie.” I motion for her to follow me. “There’s a lot more to see.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll pull a chair up to the glass and sleep here. I’m easy to please.”
“Good to know. I’ll note that for later.”
She grins. “I thought you were waiting on me to beg.”
Fire shoots through my veins, and it takes every ounce of control I can muster not to lay her on that fucking table and tease her until she gives in.
“Keep it up,” I say. “I’ll have you doing it on your knees.”
Her flush deepens. The color staining her face and neck makes my cock throb.
“You wish,” she says, smirking.
Damn right, I do.
If Brock overheard this conversation, he’d murder me. No questions asked. And if I went through with it? He’d hurt me so badly that he’d end my career. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that either.
The worst part? I can’t blame him.
I like to think I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. The headlines make it sound like I’m cold and callous, blowing through women with no care in the world. And while I never feel attached to any of them, I do remember they’re someone’s daughter.
But sometimes respect isn’t what they want.
And what they want is something I won’t give them. Any of them.
Keep it moving, Brewer.
“I’m staying in this bedroom,” I say, clearing my throat and pointing at a door on the other side of the table.
“Great.” Blakely fixes the knot of dark hair on top of her head. “Where am I sleeping if I’m banned from the chair?”
“I’ll show you. Let’s get your bag first.”
She follows me into the foyer. “I think I’ll let you carry it this time.”
“Gee, thanks for letting me. You’re so nice.”
She laughs. “I have lactic acid in my arms, okay? I’m not used to that much physical exertion.”
“That’s your fault. I tried to get it for you.” I grab the handle of her suitcase and point at the closed doors with my other hand. “Powder room. I have no idea if there’s food in the kitchen. Brock and Ella’s room is down that hallway.”
Our footsteps pad softly against the stone floor. It fills the suite with a warmth I’ve yet to feel here.
“After you,” I say, sweeping my hand across the steps.
She looks at the landing above our heads. “My room is up there?”
“If you want the giant bathtub, it is.”
“I do want that.” Blakely starts up the steps, looking at me over her shoulder. “Good luck with that suitcase. Bet you wish you gave me a downstairs bedroom now, don’t you?”