Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“A what?” I ask in bewilderment.
Sal gives a low, dark laugh that is totally gleeful in an evil way. I’m sure he’s banking on me hurling my guts up from the smell.
Yeah, well fuck you, Sal. There’s no way in hell I’m losing this competition.
I turn to look back at Jerico. “Deal. Let’s get started.”
Everyone starts chattering, and I vaguely hear a few people laying down bets. I glance across the table at Bodie, and he’s staring at me. At first, I can’t read a damn thing on his face, but I’ve spent a lot of time staring at it this past week. I’ve become adept at reading the nuances.
It starts to become clear to me. He’s frustrated my abilities are being questioned, and he’s a little worried about something happening to me while out on the boat with no medical help. He’s also burning with a need for me to avenge myself, all while being put out that he can’t do it for me.
It’s a lot of fucking emotion brewing in him, but all I can do is give him a confident smile. His in return is tight and guarded.
I want to tell him “I got this,” but I’m not sure he’d believe me.
♦
“You okay?” Bodie asks with a quick glance as he pulls my Maserati into my driveway. He asks because the motion of the car is making me nauseous, which is in turn making me sweat and pant.
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth as he brings the car to a halt. As soon as he puts it in park, I’ve got the passenger door open and I’m puking my guts up all over my driveway.
Ten hot dogs and buns.
Which means I throw up for quite a long time.
I’m vaguely aware of Bodie standing just outside of the range of vomit, patiently waiting for me to get it all out.
When I’m done, my head swims and I sit back in the car seat, breathing hard. My head rolls on the headrest, and I look at him balefully.
He grins back. “You were fucking awesome.”
My smile is weak but genuine. “I was, wasn’t I?”
As expected, Sal creamed me in the knife throwing and I wiped the floor with him on the shooting range. When Jerico had twenty hot dogs brought in from Pink’s and laid ten each out on opposite sides of the conference room table, my stomach started churning.
Sal sat across from me, cracking his knuckles and already smiling in victory as he took in the pale green tint of my skin and the sweat beaded on my brow. Morning sickness really sucked ass. It hasn’t been plaguing me too bad, and is easily controlled by nibbling on a few crackers, but ten greasy hot dogs?
It may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
The competition was simple. Whoever could eat ten hot dogs in the fastest time was the winner. That meant fully swallowed, nothing left behind. There was also a five-minute puke clause added, where the hot dogs had to stay down that length of time to be declared the victor.
Despite the nausea and violent need to hurl, I cleared my mind and swallowed hot dog after hot dog. All I could think about was taking Bodie’s cock down my throat, and that had to have helped in some way. Sal still had half a hot dog left when I swallowed my last bite.
It was agony waiting out that five minutes, and even when it was up and I was declared the winner and resounding leader of Team Two—Sal gave me a grudging handshake after—I still refused to puke.
I did not, however, hesitate to ask Bodie to drive me home. I had some serious shakes by the time we got in my car, and I moaned and groaned all the way home.
Right now, I’m feeling a little bit better. The fact Bodie thought what I did was awesome makes it an even better victory.
“Thank you,” I tell him softly, looking at him across my pile of vomit. “For defending me in there. Supporting me.”
“It’s nothing,” he says nonchalantly.
“For trusting me to do my job,” I add. That’s really what I’m grateful for. “For not holding me back, even though I know damn well you’re worried about me going.”
Bodie doesn’t respond other than to wave his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the car and inside. Maybe some ginger ale for you.”
With a sigh, I swing my legs out and deftly sidestep the vomit. I’ll come out later and rinse it off. When I meet him, I tug gently on the bottom of his t-shirt to get his attention. “No. Seriously. Thank you for not fighting me on going on this mission. For letting me do this. I know you could raise a stink about it, so I know you’re taking a risk right along with me.”