Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I sure as fuck did.
Pipe.
Pull.
Slam in.
Try it.
Fuck me. This shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.
Eyeing the small space she’s left for me, I balk, perplexed how this mathematically works. “You want me in there?” Not going to happen. I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest again.
She grins. “Well, you kind of need to be for it to work.” She takes a final step back before she reaches the tiled wall surrounding the basin.
I angle the showerhead up so I can fit in without it jabbing me in the head. “I already miss my shower at my penthouse.”
“Not sure what kind of shower a penthouse has, but this one has good water pressure. I’ve tested it myself.” Her showering in here isn’t an image I mind. “What’s your shower like?”
“Well, for one . . .” I reach up and hold the pipe jutting from the wall. “I can fit under it. But there are jets on the walls as well. The high pressure of the spray eases my muscles after practice.”
“Maybe you’re practicing too hard.”
My gaze whips back over my shoulder so fast that my neck twinges. Now I’m the one staring. “Impossible.”
She shrugs. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
“I will.” Not sure why that felt personal, but she struck a raw nerve. I turn away from her again, mumbling, “Practice less? What the fuck? No one who is worthy of playing practices less.”
“Alright.” I can hear the teasing in her tone. I glance back again. Her smile was already wiped away, but now she’s looking at me like I need to speak to a professional.
I am a professional. A pro hockey player, who at thirty-five is at the top of my game. That’s all anyone needs to know to be the best. Watch me and practice.
“As fun as it is to discuss the worst approach I’ve ever heard to winning, are we fixing this or rigging it to work?” I ask.
“We’ve tried to fix it.” She leans against the tile wall to see what I’m doing. “Now we rig it. It’s really just a trick that seems to work. It’s not necessary if you prefer cold showers—”
“I do not.” I pull out the faucet.
“Quick learner,” she whispers, pressed up so close that she’s almost beside me.
“It’s not really rocket science.” When I jam it back just like she did, I hear a crack. “That didn’t sound good.”
Grabbing my arm, she leverages her weight to peer around me. “No, it didn’t.”
I jolt when water hits my face, her scream right after. “ACK!” I’m grabbed by the middle and pulled backward just as her sneakers slip out from under her. Strong in my stance, like I am on the ice, I reach around, catching Summer before she falls and takes me with her. “Oh my God,” she says, relief sinking through her muscles. “I thought I was doneso.”
“I’m known for my fast reflexes.”
She snorts as the water spews all over us. “I don’t even know what to say to that other than if you let go of me, I won’t get entirely drenched.” She looks down as I turn around with my hands still on her waist. “Too late.”
Her wet dress gives me a sneak peek of the lace bra she’s wearing under it. Her hair is soaked, too. But it’s from the briefest of our gazes uniting that my heart begins thundering in my chest. And then she’s gone, free from me and the water, standing on the bathroom mat dripping like a wet cat.
“Oh noooo.” She’s eyeing the faucet and then jumps forward to try to turn it off with no luck. The strength she carried in her body has all but escaped. “Great,” she deadpans, staring at the fractures in the tile that lead to the cracked base of the showerhead. She looks me over, and defeat wins, dragging down not only the sides of her mouth but the outer corners of her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“With all this happening, you’re worried about me?”
“You’re from the city.”
I burst out laughing. “I’m from the city, so I’ve never seen a broken pipe? We used to play in the water from fire hydrants. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“At least you’re dressed for it in your swimsuit.” She grabs a towel from the rack and hands it to me even though she somehow managed to get more wet than I am.
“You go ahead. I need to see if there’s any hope of salvaging this pipe to stop the water from leaking out.” I pull the faucet back out, but I’m gentler this time when I push it back in. Unsuccessful, I can admit my own defeat. “We need to cut off the water to the house. Do you know where that valve is located?”
She finishes patting her face and wraps the towel around her. “It’s on the other side of the house. I’ll go do it.” I take the other towel on display and dry off as I follow her through the house, leaving a trail of water in my wake.