Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I lie down next to Brooke and cover us both up before rolling to turn off the bedside lamp. I then scoot inward, gently sliding my arms around her and giving her a slight roll so I’m spooning her.
I close my eyes and wait for sleep.
Chapter 13
Brooke
“You really take a nap before the game?” I ask Bishop as we walk down the hall to my hotel room.
“Most guys do, especially when we’re on the road,” he says. He’s clutching my hand, our arms swinging slightly as we walk, which seems to have become the norm now.
I don’t even remember falling asleep last night. One moment I’m getting an amazing back rub and anticipating some great sex. The next moment Bishop’s alarm clock on his phone is waking us up at 8 A.M. I was groggy and it took me a moment to realize I was in my hotel bed with Bishop. He promptly rolled toward me and more than made up for the sex we didn’t have the night before. He wasn’t in a hurry and it was all lazy kisses and slow, roaming hands. Bishop even took his time rolling the condom on, almost like a reverse striptease, while I watched him with my tongue practically hanging out of my mouth. God…something about a man touching himself…stroking his—
“Did you hear what I said?” Bishop asks me as we stop before my room door.
I turn my face to him and just blink stupidly. “Not quite.”
“I asked if you’d rather go do something,” he says, and I realize he’s offering to take me out and about downtown San Francisco during what is his normal rest period before the game.
I actually think that qualifies as asking me out on our first date, because the team dinner didn’t really count on Saturday night since I would have gone to that with or without Bishop. Hanging out at my house most of Sunday before the plane left didn’t count either.
Turning into him, I rest my hand on his chest and go up to my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his mouth. There’s nothing weird about me making that move. It’s not part of an act, but rather a pure reaction from me that he offered something so sweet.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I roll backward, bringing my heels to the floor. “But you are absolutely not going to do anything that deviates from your normal pregame rituals. I may not be a nut about the sport, but I know enough to know that your strength is important for tonight.”
Bishop had explained to me over breakfast this morning how today would play out. I knew some of it because as a member of Vengeance Team Services, I had helped coordinate much of the schedule. That included a catered lunch buffet at the hotel after the morning practice. The home team Brawlers had the ice at 10 A.M. and the Vengeance took the ice at eleven. The practice also included time for the players to get in light workouts if they choose, or even treatments from the training staff such as ice baths or massages.
After the lunch, the players had free time until the bus would leave for the arena at 4:30 P.M., where I’ve arranged for a healthy catered team dinner. This is where Bishop filled in the blanks and told me that most players just nap during the few hours they have free. He promptly informed me that he’d be coming back to my room for the nap, as he didn’t want to hear Tacker snore. How he knew Tacker snored was beyond me.
Bishop takes my key card from my hand and opens the door. He pushes it open for me to precede him in, and I turn to see him hanging the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside knob.
After shutting the door, Bishop walks into the room and removes his watch. He sets it on the dresser, his back to me.
“You going to take a nap with me or do something else?” he asks as he pulls his wallet out of his jeans pocket and starts to toe off his shoes. My eyes stay pinned on his ass because it’s an amazing ass. Everything about his body is amazing, from his chiseled body born of so much hard work, to his hulking size, which was even larger when he was fully dressed and out on the ice for the practice skate a bit ago. I was able to watch them practice, knowing the schedule and having time on my hands.
When Bishop stepped out onto the ice, his hair moving in the breeze created by his momentum as he skated around to get warmed up, I just sat and watched him from a purely appreciative female perspective. I thought Bishop was about the hottest thing I’d ever seen until that moment, but after seeing him on the ice—with pads adding more bulk and the blades of his skates adding more height to his six-five frame—I just wanted him to have complete control over me. It was crazy. Totally absurd to be having those thoughts, but I wanted to roll over and bare my throat to him and tell him to do his worst to me.