Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
My heart didn’t just hurt. It ached at the raw pain in her voice. I made quick work of removing her rubber gloves, then turned her in my arms and caged her against the counter so she wouldn’t run off before I’d had my say.
“Persephone.”
When she wouldn’t look at me, I tipped her chin up and found her blue eyes sparkling with tears and rage. Now that was a feeling I knew all too well.
“I don’t want your sister.” She looked away, and I waited until she dragged her gaze back to mine. “I wouldn’t want her even if I wasn’t married to you.”
“I appreciate that.” So ladylike.
“We’re legally married. That counter is half yours. It’s going to be all yours if you keep scrubbing it like it’s personally offended you.”
Her lips twitched in a smile, but it faded fast. “I’m just so mad. So fucking mad.”
“Damn, it’s hot when you swear,” I muttered with a grin.
“You’re beautiful when you smile.”
I blinked. Gorgeous, hot, fuckable…those were the compliments I was used to getting. “You’re always beautiful.”
Her lips parted.
I cleared my throat and backed up. “I know how to work out the rage.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Does it include removing my clothes so I can prove I’m not frigid?”
Damn, that word must have really hit home for her to dwell on it like this. “No, but it involves you getting cold.”
Her brow puckered, and I motioned for her to follow me. I led us through the kitchen and down the hall toward the steps that led to the basement. I flipped the switch and shut the door behind us as we descended, then opened the door at the bottom of the staircase as we approached.
Cold air smacked us in the face as I shut the rink door.
Persephone’s jaw dropped as she saw why this house only had two bedrooms. The entire basement was a half sheet of ice. “This is amazing.”
“Cost me a pretty penny, but it keeps me from punching the shit out of people when I get mad, so I figure it’s out-earned itself bail money.” I led her down the rubber-floored walkway to the alcove that served as my personal locker room. It was lined with four giant, wooden lockers. “You never realized it was here?”
She shook her head as I handed her a pair of brand new skates. “When you gave me the tour, you pointed to the basement door and grunted, ‘mine,’ so I steered clear.”
Had to love a girl who respected a man’s privacy. Love? I wiped that thought straight out of my head.
“Those are your size. I had them made for you when you moved in.” I quickly got my skates and sat on the wide wooden bench.
“That’s so sweet,” she whispered, running her fingers over the lavender laces. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I motioned to the locker behind me. “I have a clean sweatshirt in there so you don’t freeze.”
She glanced down at her yoga pants and tank top. “Oh. Right. I changed right after I threw Anne in a cab.”
I quirked a brow as I started lacing my skates under my athletic pants. “No driver?”
“Nope. She can kiss my ass.”
I laughed, then helped her get her skates tied once she had my sweatshirt on. “They’re stiff when they’re new. You’ll have to break them in.”
“Are you saying I can skate down here?” she asked as we walked toward the ice. Her steps were steady. Good, she’d spent some time on skates.
“Any time you want.” I grabbed one of my sticks and one I’d bought for her, then picked up the bucket of pucks and stepped onto the ice. “Can you skate?”
“A little.” She glided out onto the ice easily. “I’ve never been in hockey skates, though. Only figure skating ones.”
I dumped the pucks in a pile about ten feet from the net as she made a small loop around the rink, testing out her skates. My sweatshirt dwarfed her, almost reaching her knees. She was pretty much shapeless in that thing, and yet I’d never seen her look sexier. Her hair was up in a knot, showing off the line of her neck, and something primal sat up and took notice when I saw her skate away with my number on her back.
“Okay, get over here and vent your rage,” I ordered, holding out her stick.
“Oh, I’m left-handed,” she remarked.
“I know. It’s a left-handed stick.”
Her eyes flared. “You notice way more than people give you credit for.”
“Not really. I just happen to notice everything about you. Now start shooting.” I moved over and took a few shots myself so I didn’t have to see her face after that comment. I wasn’t even sure why I’d said it, other than knowing that she needed to feel desirable, to know that her sister was an evil, wrong bitch for what she’d said.