Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
I let go of Talia’s hand and put my arm around her instead, stroking my thumb over her bare shoulder. Macintire’s expression darkens. Talia leans against me, and just when I think Macintire’s going to say fuck it and throw a punch, he does something else instead.
He bends down and pukes again, orange vomit landing on Audra’s strappy little shoes and perfectly manicured feet. There’s a collective gasp, someone pulling out a camera phone to take a photo.
“Sorry, babe,” Kyle says weakly. “I couldn’t help it.”
Audra is about to blow. Her face is red and she keeps opening her mouth and closing it again. She looks like a fish lying on a shoreline.
“Ma’am, let us help you with this,” one of the boat’s crew members says.
Someone brings a mop and a woman—I think it’s Audra’s maid of honor—shoots Talia a dirty look before leading Audra away by the arm.
Kyle gets to his feet and walks away, not looking back at us.
Talia’s eyes meet mine, a wicked gleam swirling in with the green and brown shades. “Okay. I should’ve believed you when you said we’d have a great time.”
Chapter Thirteen
Talia
* * *
I pour myself a cup of the coffee Lucien brewed in our room, burning my mouth on the first sip.
I’m exhausted after a long, mostly sleepless night. I slept on the flight here and Lucien didn’t, so when we went to bed last night, he fell asleep fast.
Not me. I just lay there, either looking at him or thinking about him. The king-size bed is big enough that we weren’t touching, but I was aware of him every second. His warmth. His closeness. His bare chest and arms. The dark locks of hair falling over his forehead.
Lucien isn’t what he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to look right past me because I have a thick waist. Or want me, but only for sex. I spent all those months alone on my couch with snacks and comfort shows, figuring things out. And I realized that men in general—and hockey players in particular—are transactional. They’re careful with the energy they spend on a woman.
Then Lucien blew my realizations to shreds. He came with me on this trip, which is taking up his entire five-day break from hockey. And while I know from his compliments and flirting that he’s interested in me, I’ve never felt pressured. He’s never shown agitation or impatience.
It’s confusing as hell. Everything was easier when I expected all men to disappoint me.
He opens the bathroom door and steam escapes the room as he walks out and says, “Hey, good morning.”
“Morning. Thanks for the coffee.”
He’s only wearing a towel around his waist, and even though I’ve seen him this way many times in the locker room, it’s another thing entirely to be alone in a hotel room with him. If he dropped the towel, I could see every inch of him.
His dark, wavy hair is wet and messy. The closer he gets to me, the dizzier I feel. His woodsy, masculine scent is like a drug I can’t get enough of.
“I’ve got a plan for today.” He stops just a couple feet away from me, so close I can see the wetness of his dark, thick eyelashes.
I drink the too-hot coffee, trying to distract myself from his presence. If he looks at my nipples, it’s over. He’ll see how turned on I am.
“What is it?” My voice is a croak, my mouth protesting the scalding coffee.
“We’re going to lay it on thick. Lots of affection and laughing. They’ll think we’re the happiest couple in the fucking world.”
I’ll never forget the way I felt last night when Kyle stormed over to us in a rage. He looked between me and Lucien like we’d betrayed him. Like I was supposed to be the scorned, sad ex who couldn’t stop crying.
Kyle never laid a hand on me, but he would punch things when he was really angry, and it scared me. There was no fear with Lucien beside me, though. Between him and my Dad, Kyle wouldn’t even make it to me before he found himself tossed overboard.
“I’m going to be awkward,” I admit. “I’ve never been in a relationship with much affection.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, that tracks, knowing Macintire.”
I back up, both to lower my blood pressure and to make sure he can’t smell my morning breath, now laced with coffee. “Should I just pet your head like you’re a dog?”
He smiles, his eyes warm. “You’re pretty killer at dry delivery, Turner.”
Damn. Every compliment from him is like a shot of endorphins injected directly into my veins.
“When you scratch my ears, I should thump my leg, right?”
“Just follow my lead. I’ll tell you what to do.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Is this going to involve blow jobs?”
“No, but there will be kissing.”
My heart skips about ten beats, but I try to look unbothered. “Okay.”