Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
"You better not," he says, then he laughs. "Those poor schmucks have no idea what they are in for."
I smile. "Really?" He nods and smiles at me. In the past six months, I’ve heard the same thing from my family members, but hearing it from him just fills me up. I look at him, his eyes lighter in the light, and my heart skips a fucking beat. It’s just like everyone told me it would be. It’s exactly what they described, it’s exactly what I knew I would never feel, yet with him, I can’t help but feel it. It’s the exact thing I was avoiding, but it pulls me to him.
"I’ve watched the shows." He admits to me, and I can’t help but feel proud. My blood and sweat go into that show and I’m glad it shows. "They were the best I’ve seen. From the interview to the clips. You are doing good, Frances."
"Thank you," I say softly. "Maybe after hockey, you can do motivational speaking." I nudge him with my shoulder and he just laughs.
"Can you imagine? That would be the worst thing for everyone."
"What do you think you’ll do after hockey?" I ask him and he shrugs.
"I have no clue, honestly." He leans back in the stool. "I’ve been giving it a lot of thought lately. I can just retire and be good."
"Well, what do you do in the off-season?" I ask him.
"Travel, train," he says, putting one hand on the back of my stool. "Relax."
"Have you thought about doing a hockey camp?" I ask him, and he laughs.
"Who is going to send their kids to a hockey camp for me to coach?" He laughs, but I can see it bothers him. "I can teach them how to fight."
"Stop." I put up a hand. "You’re a great player, and your stats speak for themselves. Okay, maybe not a hockey camp for you to coach, but what if you do special guest. Drop in to different camps and speak to the kids. Sort of, don’t do what I do.”
“I mean, I guess I could do that," he says.
"My uncle Justin," I tell him. "He runs one for underprivileged kids."
"That’s what I would do," he says. "Help out kids who can’t afford it."
"So do it," I tell him, and he rolls his eyes at me.
"It isn’t that easy." He pushes and gets off his chair.
"Yes, it is," I tell him. "It’s that easy. You get in touch with hockey coaches and ask them to nominate kids to be part of the program." He stares at me from the other side of the counter. "If you want, I can help you start it up."
"You have enough on your plate," he says, and I look at him.
"Yeah, I do, but," I say, pushing myself from the counter. "I know someone who doesn’t, and I think this is just what she needs. My cousin Alex has no idea what she wants to do, but I know she loves to help those in need. Last year, she helped with The Horton Foundation, and she killed it. If you want, I can ask her. She’s coming down this weekend, and maybe you can meet her and see."
"And you are worried about some old guys stopping you," he says, pushing off from the counter and coming to me. "Are you full?"
"No." I wink at him. "I left room for dessert. But I want to shower first," I tell him, and he smiles. "I can join you."
"Actually, I’ll shower first, and then you can get in," I say, walking to my bag and running up the stairs. I close the door and undress as fast as I can, showering in record time, wrapping myself in a towel, and when I open the door, he’s sitting on the bed watching television. "Your turn."
"We could have saved the water." He gets up, walking to me and bending to kiss me.
"Hurry up," I urge. He walks away from me, and I see him peel his shirt from his body. He doesn’t even close the door, and when he takes off his shorts, my knees get weak. He’s got it all, the perfect chest, the abs are on point. His ass is thick and so are his legs and his cock is a masterpiece that I would love to get molded. "Has anyone ever asked you to get your cock molded?" I ask, and he looks at me with shock. "I see an activity in our future." I laugh, turning to walk to my bag.
I grab the white lace string thong I have, slipping it on, and hear my phone ring from downstairs. I grab one of his button-down shirts, then run down to get the phone seeing that Alex has just tried to FaceTime me. I call her back and her face fills the screen.