Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
And maybe—just maybe—that’s what he’s looking for.
Someone else to be in control.
The back of my neck pricks with possibility—with scenes of control and dominance. I have the feeling he might want that kind of game.
So what if I didn’t come here to take a man home. Maybe I will, after all.
I knock back the rest of my drink without breaking eye contact, turn around to set it down on the marble bar top, then flash the man a sly grin. He licks his lips.
As quickly as possible, I ask for my tab, hoping the man in the white T-shirt will be hot and sweaty and waiting for me. But settling the check takes a frustrating amount of time, and when I head downstairs, he’s gone.
There’s no sign of my dirty dancer anywhere.
My shoulders sag. We didn’t even talk, yet I felt such a strong pull toward him.
But pulls are dangerous.
Attraction can be risky, so this is for the best. I should shove the man out of my mind.
As I get into my limo and head home, I ignore the subtle sense of disappointment—the unusual bit of longing that tugs at my chest.
Doesn’t matter. I won’t see him again. And by tomorrow, this dirty craving will have disappeared.
2
LET’S DO IT AGAIN
Gunnar
Boom.
One million followers.
In the locker room after a game against the Seattle Storm Chasers, I flash my phone at my teammates Zane and Declan. Between us, we kill it on the San Francisco Dragons’ lineup and on the field. Declan’s the shortstop, Zane mans first, and I handle the hot corner like a badass.
“Check this out. You wish you had my following,” I tell them.
Declan rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag from his stall. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want—a massive social media following. Not the thirty home runs I already have this season,” the shortstop says.
Zane echoes the dismissal. “Or the sponsorship deal I just got.”
I scoff, grabbing my shirt from the stall, but then—fuck it. Why do I need a picture with a shirt on? We just won the game. I clobbered in a three-run homer. Fans like pictures of me with my shirt off. So I snap a selfie in front of my stall, grinning a little wickedly.
“Bet I get a fuck-ton of likes on this,” I say, admiring it like the cocky fucker I am.
“And what are you going to do with all of those likes?” Zane asks.
“Um. Hello? Pretty sure Seductive Cologne doesn’t mind the shirtless pics. Nor does my bathing suit sponsor,” I say, pulling on my shirt. Probably crazy to think the guy I danced for at the club could be one of those likes. But you never know.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of a showboat?” Declan asks, making his way to the locker room exit.
“All the time. And I love it. And the fans love it too,” I say. But I don’t just do it for the fans. I have my reasons. Personal ones.
Zane shrugs, following Declan. “He’s not wrong. The fans eat it up.”
“The ladies and the dudes.” I stuff my phone in my pocket and head out into the corridor after them. “And, speaking of ladies and dudes, I think I might head back to that club early tomorrow night. Are you in?”
Something sparked for me there. The start of something new, something alluring. A sense of what I want after hours. A possibility of how I might want to spend my time.
“The night before a game?” Declan asks in faux horror.
“I said early, for some good ol’ fashioned fun.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not suggesting we dance till dawn and drink the bar dry.”
Declan shudders. “You won’t find me in a club again. I only went once for Grant. And that was a couple years ago,” he says as we head down the corridor. “But he gets it.”
“Awww. You were such a good boyfriend then,” I say.
“And I’m a great husband now,” he says, waggling his ring finger.”
Laughing, I shudder. “No lady or dude is tying this guy down.”
Zane claps my shoulder. “It’s going to be so fun when you eat your words.”
“No way. You’ll see. I’ll still be single AF by the end of the season because I plan to enjoy the hell out of the off-season.”
The guys stop in their tracks like they’d rehearsed it, and they exchange a look. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Declan asks Zane.
Zane nods knowingly. “Time for a bet.”
Declan turns to me. “Guys like you always fall the hardest. If you’re still single AF by the end of the season, I’ll donate a hundred grand to the charity of your choice. And if you fall, you’ll donate that to our picks.”
I blink. Someone throws down big. But then I square my shoulders. “You think I’ll have someone locking me down by then? It’ll never happen.”