Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Uh ...” I sigh deeply. She already knows about my mental health issues and medications, so why not just tell her everything? “I have a knee injury, and I’ve been hiding it. When I got hit tonight, it made it worse. Now the pain is constant. So I’m fucked.”
She smooths her hand over Birdie’s back as she speaks. “Because you won’t be able to play?”
“Yeah. Our team trainer knows I’m hurt. I don’t know what the fuck I did to give it away, but she knows and she wants to look at it. It’s a torn meniscus. I’ll either need major rehab or surgery. I might never be the same again.”
“You might be even better, though, once you’re not trying to play with an injury.”
I run a hand through my hair. She doesn’t get it. Hockey is my life. I don’t know who I am without my team and my routine.
“The fear of not making it back is real, though,” she says. “I don’t mean to minimize it.”
I don’t know if it’s my medication kicking in or if it’s because she didn’t flip out when she found out about my conditions, but I’m feeling more relaxed. Comfortable, even.
“Are you hungry?” I turn on some lights. “I can make us something to eat.”
“I’m starving.” She gets up from the floor. “I’ll help.”
I scan the contents of my fridge. “We could have some omelets ready pretty fast.”
“Yeah, I love a good omelet.”
She rolls up the sleeves of her sweater and washes her hands at the sink. That’s when I see part of my last name on the back of the sweater, her long dark hair obscuring some of the letters. I stop breathing for a few seconds.
“You did that,” I say.
She looks over her shoulder at me, her brow furrowed. “Hmm?”
I shake my head, trying to clear my head. “The sweater with my name.”
“Oh. I asked Suki to get me one.”
She turns, drying her hands on a towel. “Want me to crack the eggs? I’m freakishly good at it.”
“You wanted to wear it?”
She smiles, looking confused. “Are we still on the sweater? Yeah, I wanted to wear it.”
I forget the ingredients on the island. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I should’ve looked away. That day in the bathroom. I guess I was being a desperate pervert, because I think you’re beautiful. I never meant a single thing I said about your ... bush. I’ve fantasized about it a thousand times, just as it was that day.”
Her lips part. “You don’t have to say that. I was in the shower to shave my bikini line, because we were getting in the hot tub, and I wanted you to ... it doesn’t matter.”
She looks away. My blood pounds with excitement as I walk around to the side of the kitchen island she’s standing on, tipping her chin up so we’re at eye level.
“It matters,” I say softly. “What were you going to say?”
She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, vulnerability in her expression. “I wanted you to look at me. And like me. I borrowed one of Suki’s swimsuits that’s too small for me because it makes my boobs look amazing.”
Her words make my cock stiffen. “When have your boobs ever not looked amazing?”
A smile dances on her lips. “Fair point. But you know what I mean. This suit is like a custom-made display case for my tits. I wanted you to want me. And when you saw me like that ... I lost my shit.”
I cup her jawline, smoothing the pad of my thumb over her lower lip. Her eyes widen slightly. “There’s never been a time since the first time I saw you when I didn’t want you.”
She pinches her brows together. “Not in that moment. With the green clay mask on my face and conditioner in my hair?”
“Are you kidding? I wanted to get in the shower with you. And then, once you started yelling at me every time you saw me, I wanted you even more. You’re ... wild. Like the most exotic flower that only grows in places man can’t get to. I could only admire you from afar, but never get close.”
“Maybe ...” She swallows, looking nervous. “Maybe that’s the appeal, that you couldn’t have me. Maybe if you could, you’d be bored.”
My grin almost turns into a laugh. “Mara, the one thing I’d never be around you is bored.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.”
I put my hands on her waist and lift her onto the kitchen island, keeping my hands on her. She cradles my face as I rest my forehead against hers. “You’ll never disappoint me. I’m not the playboy you think I am. I haven’t been with a woman in a long time, because if it’s not special, I don’t want it.”
I grab the sweater and gently pull it up over her head, tossing it aside. Underneath, she’s wearing a tight black camisole. My anxiety attack is a distant memory as I bend down and kiss her jawline, then her cheek. Her breath is warm on my face, coming in uneven little bursts.