Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Ugh, fine, fine. Hustle your ass.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
Back in my room, I light the candles and jump up on my bed, spraying the misting spray I decided was free—seeing as it was on the counter of the hotel we stayed at in Denver when we went to Noah’s preseason game the week before school started—up into the low spinning fan.
It gets in my mouth and I cough, hopping back down and fixing the towels on my mattress again.
Less than five minutes pass and Brady slides in, in a pair of boxers, flopping right onto my makeshift massage table. “Ready, Glinda the Good Witch. Work your magic on me.”
I toss my phone onto the pillow and climb over him, sitting down on his thighs because I’m too lazy to stand.
I get straight to work, pouring some warm oil along his spine and slowly working it into his muscles. He’s tense, likely sore from playing a kick-ass game tonight, so I take it easy to start but press into him a little firmer as I go on.
I’m almost positive he’s fallen asleep after about ten minutes of nothing but his deep, even breaths, but then he lets out a satisfied moan.
“You should be paid for this,” he mumbles, his face half pressed into the towel beneath him. “I mean, not from me but…”
I chuckle and press the tips of my fingers along his spine, working up and down. “In another life, I would totally open a day spa.”
“Why not in this life?”
I shrug, trying not to think about what it could mean for me if I didn’t choose a career that allowed me time with little ones, and press my palms into the space below his shoulders, kneading out the knot there.
Brady groans long and loud, and I smile to myself. “You’re too sweet to be so mean with your hands twenty-four seven, aren’t you?”
“Ha!” I mock and Brady laughs, but it’s quickly cut off when I dig my knuckles along the tension line in his shoulder blade, his sharp hiss following. Biting back a laugh, I bend down, whispering in his ear. “You were saying?”
“I take it back. You’re not Glinda. You’re Maleficent. Evil, evil woman.”
I do laugh now, easing my touch and gliding my hands down, collecting a little more of the oil and sliding back up until my fingers are curling around the front of his shoulders. I skate them out and down his biceps, then back again.
“Jesus. No I take it all back. You’re not allowed to be a massage lady. Stick to the hot kindergarten-teacher thing. None of you girls are ever doing this professionally. This shit is bonerfide.”
“Bona what?”
“Boner. Fide. As in boner inducing. As in dudes will be getting hard anytime you—”
“I think I get it.” I smile, shaking my head. “Honestly, I only took that class this summer because I was bored. Ari stayed with Noah most of the time, and you guys were doing all your offseason training shit, so when Paige told me about the little studio near hers offering it right there in Oceanside, I figured why not. We signed up that same day.”
“So what you’re telling me is I should tell Chase that Paige has magic hands too?”
My mouth gapes and I slap him, sliding off his ass so I’m beside him and can meet his eye, a laugh bubbling up my throat. “Oh my. Shit, I fucking knew it! He wants to bone her down, doesn’t he?”
Brady’s whole body shakes with his chuckle, and he shifts, lifting an arm and tugging me up higher so we’re face-to-face. “I mean that’s the vibe I get, and I can usually tell when someone’s fuck meter is full, but I mean, if I asked him, he’d probably say he more wants to strangle her than straddle her.”
“And because you’re a fantastic fucking friend, you would then remind him that that very frame of mind will lead to the best of sex.” I smile wide.
Brady coughs and releases me, pushing up and swinging his legs off the bed. “What are friends for, right?”
Why does that sound so evasive?
I push up into a sitting position, meeting his eyes when he glances at me over his shoulder.
“Come on, girl. Let’s get some food and get to the party before all the good beer is gone.”
I roll my eyes but do as he says. “We’re in college, Brady. There is no such thing as good beer.”
I slide my boots back on, checking myself quickly in the long mirror as Brady pulls on some pants and tugs a T-shirt over his head. He runs his fingers through his golden-boy, dirty-blond hair and gives his head a little shake.
“Do you even have to try and get laid, or do girls just fall from the sky and land on your dick?”