Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
He definitely manages to knock it out of the park on those.
They both get in position after their warmup, Josh ready to serve first in game number one, and I may have thought they were going for it in the warmup, but I’d underestimated them. The lunges are insane, the leaps beyond this world, and the way they stride and jostle across the court gives me butterflies all the way down to my toes.
Now. Here. In Heath’s man cave basement-cum-sports-hall, these two could just be two hot guys from a normal walk of life playing a match together. Heath’s icon status and Josh being a hooker means nothing. They are just two men giving their all to a squash match.
The way they grin at each other between rounds makes the butterflies ramp up even harder.
The competition is definitely raging, but so is the lust.
And more.
There is more than testosterone, lust and competition at play on the court.
The guys flash me smiles and waves between rounds, but their hearts aren’t with me right now. They are all for each other.
I like that.
Scrap that. I love the way they are so consumed with each other. Even though I’m out of the spotlight. I don’t care.
I probably love it a little too much, in fact.
It gives me weird ideas about how things could be on the outside world. If we were just regular people in London, and Josh was free to grab his sports kit and head out for a game of squash with Heath at a local gym. Maybe they’d go for a bite to eat after. Maybe some drinks. Maybe I’d join them. We could hang out until we decided whose place we were going home to.
Because that would happen.
We’d always go home together…
I banish the thought, because it can’t be. It will never be. Heath is a client. A famous client. And we are just paid whores out to entertain him for a week between stints of filming.
So why are both my heart and gut telling me otherwise? Tempting me with a crazy dream?
My attention gets tugged back to the court when Josh lets out an especially loud cheer at a victory. I’ve lost track of the scorecard, but they haven’t. Josh is two points up.
It only spurs Heath on.
They take a break, absolutely drenched in sweat as they glug some water on the bench with me. Fuck, I’d love some action with them like this, but the testosterone is nowhere near my pussy when they towel the sweat from their brows. They get set to jump right back in there.
“You’re really fucking good,” Josh says to Heath.
“You sound really fucking surprised.”
Josh shrugs. “Maybe I am.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you some more. First to ten?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
I’m surprised they make it to ten, honestly. Their muscles are going to be aching like fucking hell tomorrow after the workout they’ve been doing in there.
You couldn’t make it up when they get to nine all and it comes down to the final play.
I can barely look, because it’s too intense for fucking words. Whoever comes out on top is going to be singing it from the rooftops.
I’m open mouthed when it’s Heath that steals the victory, because WTF?? Something subconscious in me always assumes Josh is going to win, I guess. He’s built to be a winner in any circumstance, and with sport he takes it so seriously.
My boyfriend is shaking his head when they step out of there, but there is no animosity, just admiration on his face as he stares at the man before him.
“You slayed it,” he says. “Fucking hell, Heath, if Nighttime Whispers dries up, take up squash. You’re like a bloody pro.”
“Thanks.”
That one simple word is all Heath has to say about his glory. No gloating, like I figured there would be. No yelling to the rafters and claiming to be the dog’s bollocks. Just a handshake and a really enjoyed that, honestly, you rocked it.
From an outsider’s point of view, you’d think this was Heath’s reward, not Josh’s.
That makes me feel kinda sad.
Heath Mason enjoying a squash game this much – as though it’s an anomaly of daily life.
Guess it is, though, for a man like him.
We’re back up in the kitchen when Heath presents the next proposal envelope. He looks almost sheepish as I take it from him, holding up his hands.
“This is a weird one, ok? Just something I wanted. Something I’ve been missing, for a long, long time.” He looks between me and Josh. “I figured that today might only reinforce it, and I was right. It did.”
Once again, I’m full speed as I tear the proposal from the envelope.
Whatever Heath has been missing, we’re going to give it to him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WEDNESDAY
I’ve always been a loner, and one of my regrets in life is not indulging in the reckless, freestyle fun of university students trashed on wine. Indulging in fun and flirting, and drunken games.