Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come to a game, and I’ll even leave my ‘hockey sucks’ sign at home.”
He smiled, then put his hands on my hips and lifted me onto his lap. I was both impressed and turned on by his manhandling.
“I missed you,” he said, my forehead resting against his.
“I missed you, too.”
“What do you want to do tonight?”
“Honestly?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, preferably.”
“I was up really late last night worrying about my brother. I feel like eating Mexican, snuggling up to watch a movie, and going to bed early.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“But…is that what you feel like?”
“Yep. I love a good steak burrito, and I like movies. I’m tired, too. I just want to be with you, you know? It doesn’t have to be swinging-from-the-chandelier every time.”
My shoulders dropped with relief, and he laughed.
“Is that what you thought I was like? Fucking for hours every time we’re together?”
“I mean…given your body, and…your expertise, I was wondering.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tightly. “No, I’m just a regular guy who happens to be a hockey player.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, taking in the pine tree smell of his soap. “Thank you.”
“I do have one question before we go to dinner,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“Is that coffee I smell?”
I smiled. “Yeah. When I said I was tired, I meant it.”
“You want to order delivery for dinner?”
“No, let’s go out. I’ll bring a travel mug of coffee.”
He kissed me, and I started reconsidering my suggestion that we go to bed early.
“Won’t that keep you up late?” he asked.
“If it does, I guess we’re not going to bed early,” I teased.
“In that case, pour an extra big cup. And I’ll take some, too.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ford
“Boys, you can lose another game. A different game,” Dom said, the entire locker room listening to his spur-of-the-moment speech. “You can have an off night some other night. You can have the worst game of your fucking career! But not tonight. Not fucking tonight. Do not be the douchebag who keeps me from enjoying our captain’s girlish screams as hot wax is poured onto his asshole and then ripped off.”
The room erupted into hoots and cheers and I shook my head. How the hell had I gotten myself into this? If we won tonight’s home game, which Elle was attending, I’d probably be getting waxed tomorrow. I’d hold up my end of the bargain, but fuck, I was not looking forward to it.
“My asshole isn’t hairy,” I said.
“You’d be surprised,” Colby said. “You probably haven’t seen it close up enough to know.”
“I’m live-streaming it,” Dom said. “I’ll play offense, defense, and goalie if I have to tonight. This is happening.”
“You aren’t live-streaming shit,” I said. “I never agreed to that.”
“No body parts will be shown. Just your face.”
“Still no.”
Dom rolled his eyes. “Come on! Beau almost broke his ankle scoring the game-winning goal against Tampa. And you can’t let me video you?”
That was hyperbole, which was typical from Dom. Beau’s ankle was twisted. But Dom had given me an idea.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If we can win five more games—a total of fifteen—I’ll do it and let you live-stream it.”
Groans and boos were lobbed at me. Dom shook his head and gave a dramatic thumbs-down.
“You’ll have to make us a much better offer than that, dickhead.”
I considered. How long could this streak last? No hot streak lasted forever. All we had to do was lose one of the next six games, and I’d be home free.
“I’ll get a tattoo,” I offered.
“Of what?” Dom asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know…the number fifteen? Or the number of games we’ve won when the streak ends?”
“Pfft,” Seth said. “Lame.”
“Yeah, no,” Dom agreed. “We’d only consider this if it was a tattoo of our choosing.”
“Like what?” I asked.
Dom thought about it. “We’d tell you when we got to the tattoo place. It would be a team decision.”
I tossed my damp towel into a laundry basket, scared of this proposition.
“Yeah, I’m not ending up with a giant dick tattooed on my arm,” I said.
“You could choose the location on your body,” Dom said. “We just get to choose the design.”
Now that, I could get into. We probably wouldn’t make it to fifteen wins—that was a long streak. And if by chance we did, I could get the ink on a place I never had to see.
“Okay…but how big would it be? I’m not getting my whole back inked for you assholes.”
“Boys?” Dom asked.
“At least nine square inches,” Beau suggested. “Three by three.”
That wasn’t very big. And agreeing to it would save my body hair from the waist down.
“Alright,” I said.
Dom’s face lit up. “Just so we’re clear, you’re agreeing that if we win fifteen games in a row, you’ll get waxed from the waist down while I live-stream it and you’ll get a tattoo of the team’s choosing that is at least nine square inches and you get to choose where it goes.”