Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
But he surprised me.
Ty returned with a warm washcloth and two water bottles. He set the waters on the nightstand and flashed a sheepish lopsided smile. “I raided your fridge. Hope you don’t mind.”
I opened my eyes and blinked. “Uh…no, of course not. Wait. What are you—”
“Shh. Stay still. I’m gonna help you clean up.”
“I can do it myself.”
I attempt to sit, but Ty held me in place with a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Let me. We went pretty hard, and I want to be sure I didn’t hurt you.”
“I…you…that’s not—” My sputtering came to a halt when he spread my cheeks and gently wiped the excess lube.
“A little pink. Not bad, though.” He snickered at my incredulous expression. “What? I literally had my tongue in your ass. There’s no reason to get shy now.”
“Oh…my…God.” I closed my eyes briefly, swatting his biceps as I twisted to sit up and lean against the headboard. “No more talking. Do not open your mouth.”
Ty made a zipped-lips gesture and flopped onto the bed beside me—buck naked. No jeans, no shoes, no socks, no obvious plan to escape posthaste. He uncapped a water bottle and handed it over, then opened the second one for himself and pressed the bottle to his closed mouth, letting water dribble down his chin as he waggled his thick brows.
My indulgent smile morphed into real laughter at his playful antics.
Ty unzipped his lips a moment later with a comedic gasp for air and swiped at his mouth. “I can’t abide by the no-speech rules if you’re gonna stare at my junk, Woody. Probably feeling a little awestruck at my sheer bigness, and I totally get that, but I’m shy and—”
“You’re not shy in the slightest,” I scoffed. “And I wasn’t staring. I just happened to notice that you’re wearing less clothing than you did when we…”
Ty waggled his brows again. “I know. I got cum on my jeans and overscrubbed them in the bathroom. Now it looks like I pissed my pants. I was going to give them a few minutes to dry, but if you want me to go, that’s cool. I won’t be offended.”
“No, that’s okay. I have a paper to write, but it can wait a bit.”
“I have hockey practice in like…” He checked his watch. “Forty-five minutes. The guys are going to want to know all about the diner episode.”
“You told them? I mean…of course, you did. It was your idea. You didn’t tell anyone about…”
My sudden inability to finish my sentences was almost as concerning as Ty knowing what I was going to say.
“Us?” He made a funny face and took another swig of water. “No. I didn’t think you’d want that either.”
“I absolutely do not. It would be extremely unprofessional to sleep with a guest.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just not something a serious journalist should do.” I set my water bottle on my nightstand and pulled the sheet over my legs, looking everywhere but at Ty.
“Not a big deal if you ask me, but I’m a fucking hypocrite, so what do I know?”
I tilted my head slightly. “How so?”
“I’m an out bisexual guy. How noble, right? Except I know for a fact that most people are cool with the bi label as long as you keep the gay part on the DL, so I do because I have a contract with a pro team with expectations. And yet I just had amazing sex with a man…the same dude I told anyone who’d listen to me was on my shit list for outing my teammate last year. So, yeah…I have no moral high ground whatsoever, and I think I should care about that more than I do.”
“You know I didn’t out Jett on purpose, don’t you?”
Ty nodded. “Yeah. I know that now.”
“Good. Well, if you’re worried that I’ll get ideas or blab to anyone about…” I gestured between us. “I won’t.”
His sexy mouth twisted devilishly. “Are we negotiating? ’Cause it sort of feels like it. I won’t tell if you don’t tell and if neither of us tells, we can fuck like bunnies for as long as we want?”
“Was that a question?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’m in if you are.”
“Tempting, but too many people know us in Smithton. If we’re seen together—”
“They’ll think we’re collaborating. And we are. Or maybe that’s past tense, but it would be easy enough to sell friendship. We have good chemistry. My agent likes us, and he doesn’t like anything.” Ty furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “He thinks the Jackals should probably be paying you for your PR skills. You should look into that.”
“Good press works both ways.”
“So you said. For the record, you were pretty impressive at the diner today.”
I beamed. “Thank you.”
“Seriously. You know your shit. You must have been up all night studying milkshakes.”
“As one does.”
Ty snorted and drank the remains of his water bottle in one long gulp. “I bet you made a few practice shakes so yours would look like dessert art. C’mon…admit it.”