Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“I take it you haven’t had anyone sweep you off your feet, then?” I surmised.
She snorted. “One night with my head hanging off the bed and a Chingy song blasting in my ear was enough for me to realize the only sweeping that would be happening in my life would be me dusting away all my romantic fantasies.”
I was as confused as I was intrigued by her comment, but a timer went off on her phone, and she hopped up from her spot on the couch.
“Gotta wash this off,” she explained, motioning to the avocado-colored shit on her face. “Enjoy your show. See you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” I managed, though my mind was racing now, and I wanted to follow her out to the pool house and question her about everything she’d just said.
Head hanging off the bed… was she referring to her first time having sex?
What the fuck was a Chingy?
And what romantic fantasies did she have… because there was a very animalistic part of me that very much wanted to fulfill them.
But the moment she disappeared out of the sliding glass door, the spell was broken, and it felt like a thousand hands were smacking me upside the head.
Get your shit together, Perry.
Chloe was the first nanny I’d had who checked every fucking box. She was fantastic with Ava, and Ava clearly adored her. Hell, my kid had smiled all night tonight.
Wasn’t it usually me bitching if the nanny came onto me? That was almost always my cue to kick them to the curb.
Now, here Chloe was, completely dedicated to the job and so at home already that she sat next to me in a face mask and the most god-awful pajamas I’d ever seen in my life, and yet somehow, she had me wanting to break my own rules.
It was dangerous, not just because it would put a good thing with Ava at risk, but because I was in no position to be anything near what Chloe deserved. That part of me that could be a good man to her, or anyone, had been broken a long time ago.
It died along with my wife, with the woman who had been my best friend.
And that was what messed me up most. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this, that I’d been so overcome with the desire to touch a woman, to hold her, to…
Fuck.
I growled in frustration, flipping the TV off and storming back to my room.
Clearly, I needed to release some tension.
And I one-hundred percent would not do so while thinking about Chloe Knott.
Or so I told myself.
But the moment I was alone, my pants around my ankles and my throbbing cock in my fist, I pumped myself long and slow until the tension coiled inside me ripped through like an electric current.
And I pictured a copper-haired beauty with the curves of Aphrodite on her knees for me, those warm brown eyes watching as I pumped out every last drop on her chest.
Positive Reinforcement
Will
Somewhat successfully, I managed to snuff out my improper thoughts of Chloe over the next few days.
After I fucked my hand to the thought of her, I’d slept — and woken up absolutely pissed at myself. I felt a whole lot more shame in the bright light of day, and other than having breakfast with her and Ava before the morning skate, I steered clear of my nanny.
The Tampa Bay Ospreys were cruising toward bye week, which meant between games and practice, I barely had time to sleep, let alone anything else. I spent what little time I did manage to have with Ava, including finding a local girls hockey league that she could join once she turned six.
Ava’s birthday was July twentieth, and for the first time in her life, she was counting down the days.
As a team, we were finding our rhythm, a playoff run well within reach as we clenched another win at home. Tonight, we would play our last game before the bye week — and we’d play it in New York.
This was a big one.
New York was on a hot streak, having won their last fourteen games in a row. Their goalie’s stats rivaled mine, their defensemen like a brick wall you had to get through just to make it to the goal, and they made scoring look easy.
We hoped to end their streak tonight — but it was going to take focus. And a near perfect fucking game.
“Suter,” I called at the end of our morning skate, nodding toward the bench. Sweat dripped off my hair and down my neck, my body sore from days of practice and games. I never felt this sore in my twenties — but then again, I never felt as strong, either.
Aleks flattened his lips with an eye roll before following me over, spitting on the ice like whatever I had to say wasn’t worth his time.