Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
My head is a mess, and my heart is already way too involved.
Two hours and another finished proposal later, Connor appears in the library. “I thought I’d find you in here.” He’s fresh from practice, dark hair styled and wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, sleeves pushed up his forearms revealing a sliver of the story on his skin. He looks like he stepped out of an advertisement. He’s also carrying takeout.
I close my laptop. “Just taking care of some work things.”
“Still playing catch-up?”
“Yeah.” I smile, but it feels stiff.
“You seem stressed.” He sets the takeout on the desk, eyes moving over me.
“Work can be that way this time of year.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
I reach for him, and he comes to me.
His palms curve around the armrests, and he leans down until our lips touch. “Besides distract you with kisses.” He backs up, brows pulling together. “Or maybe it’s you distracting me.”
The problem with letting him in is that eventually he’ll be able to read me in ways that will make it hard to hide things from him. I run my nails along his scalp, something I know he loves. “Did you bring me my favorites?”
“I did. Although they’re my favorites, too.”
“What about Meems?”
“She went to a friend’s to play bridge, which means I get time with my wife.” He kisses me again. “Are you hungry?”
“For food or you?”
“Food first. You can have me later.”
“Such a meanie.”
“So awful that I want to make sure you’re nourished before I take you to bed and make you come until you’re delirious.”
I nod solemnly. “The absolute worst.”
He smiles and I laugh, relieved that the time apart hasn’t changed things and glad for the break from the incessant worry. We unpack the takeout containers and settle in to eat. My appetite has been off since the day his father stopped by the library, but Connor went to the trouble to get all my favorites, and he’s right—I won’t be able to focus on anything if I don’t eat.
“How was practice?” I pour dressing on my mango salad.
“It was good. This season feels different.” Connor spoons tamarind curry over his rice.
“Different how?” I ask.
He taps his chopsticks on the edge of his plate. “Like I’m part of the team.”
My heart squeezes. “And you haven’t felt that way with the Terror before?”
“I haven’t felt that way anywhere before,” he admits.
“Not even when you were playing for New York?”
He shakes his head. “Having Kodiak on my side made it easier, especially since he was the team’s golden boy, but I was still a problem. And then I was traded to Toronto and became even more of a problem.”
“Because of Flip.”
“Partly. But I have a reputation for pushing people’s buttons, on and off the ice. I’m a good distraction.”
“What’s changed?” I ask, keeping my voice casual. He’s opening up, letting me in.
He drops his head, eyes on his plate. “I want to be more than that.” Connor clears his throat. “My entire life I’ve played this part. I’ve always been the outsider. It’s all I’ve ever known, on and off the ice.”
“But not anymore?” My stomach flips and twists. These feelings I have for Connor keep growing.
“My parents believe I chose this career to spite them, and I’ve fed into the belief that all I can be is the bad guy. But I want to leave more than a legacy of problematic behavior. I want to deserve my place on my team, and it’s not just me who’s affected anymore.”
“You mean Meems?”
“I mean you. If you have to be married to me, at least you can be married to a player whose team doesn’t hate him.”
I set my plate aside and take his from him, moving it to my desk. I shift from my chair and settle in his lap, linking my fingers behind his neck. “My sweet villain.”
“Not sweet at all. I want these things for entirely selfish reasons.”
“And what reasons are those?”
“It makes you soft for me.” He threads his fingers through my hair and kisses the edge of my jaw.
“Putty in your evil, plotting hands,” I agree.
He pulls my mouth to his and licks inside.
I’m suddenly ravenous for him. Needy and desperate. Also, I’m terrified that if this conversation continues, I’ll tell him my own truth, and that could change everything.
I slip out of his lap to kneel between his parted legs. His eyes darken as I run my hands up his thick thighs and reach for his belt.
“What are you doing, little menace?”
“What does it look like?” I unbuckle his belt, pop the button, and pull the zipper down.
“Like you have plans for me.”
I slip my hand into his boxer briefs, my fingers closing around his length. He’s already hard. I free him from the fabric and stroke him. His eyes heat, and he watches me with rapt fascination as I leave open-mouthed kisses on the shaft, working my way up to the head. I meet his hot gaze as I take him between my lips, licking him, sucking him.