Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I wink. At least, I think I do. Maybe my eye is twitching. “I’m lots of fun. The best part about me is I never talk about hockey. Because eww … dude. Eww.”
“Have you forgotten my name?”
“Co … Cooooooo. Damn it, I know it. I just forgot hows to says it.”
“Well, yeah, everyone calls me Cohen, but my name is—”
Someone across the bar drops a tray of drinks, and glass shatters everywhere.
“It’s snowing!” I yell and go to stand, when Cohen pushes me back down.
“You really are drunk. How about I take you home?”
“Did you just hit on me? How many guys on the team are queer as fuck?”
“Jesus, hell no. Your brother isn’t my teammate anymore, but bro-code still counts. Teammates’ siblings are off-limits.”
“Good. Because I’m kinda seeing someone.”
Cohen leans forward in his seat. “Oh, really? Where is this person tonight, then?”
“I don’t know.” Well, I do know. Probably in his dorm room. Alone. Because I didn’t have the guts to ask him out.
“You don’t know?” Cohen asks.
“Yeah. Uh …”
I get distracted by Cohen taking another sip and his tongue darting out to lick at his wet top lip.
Shit, I must be fucking hammered if I’m finding that attractive.
For some reason, it triggers something in my mind, and I’m suddenly remembering him in that costume which spirals into Richie’s video and jerking off until I almost passed out.
Which is something I’ve done more times than I’ll admit since.
And if sex can be that intense without him even there … I shiver as I think about him jerking off in front of me for real.
“I need to go home,” I blurt.
Cohen stands. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll help you. Did you drive here?”
I shake my head. “Boobered.”
“Boobered?”
“Yeah, you know. Boobered. Why can’t I say Boobered right?”
“I’m guessing you mean Ubered?”
I point at him. “Yes. That. Has anyone ever told you that you could be the smartest hockey player in the history of hockey players?”
Cohen chuckles. “Definitely not, but it’s good to know I jump up a few IQ points when the people around me are drunk off their asses.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
“I should get everyone drunk?”
“Exactly! Being dunk if nuf.”
“Sure it is, whatever that means.” Cohen wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me outside.
It’s freezing out, but the alcohol makes my brain not feel it. Or maybe not care. I know it’s cold but refuse my coat when Cohen tries to put it on me.
I spin in his arms. “Tell me what you think about sex.” For some reason my mouth thinks that’s a perfectly valid question.
“Hello, randomness. Umm, sex is sex. And you? What are your thoughts on sex?”
I turn the question over in my mind which is made so much harder by the alcohol drowning my brain. “Some days I think it’s overrated and a lot of pressure—I mean, why is everyone so obsessed about who people are fucking anyway? Other days, I think I get the appeal. Sex with the right person is … goddamn mind-blowing.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I wonder if that was too much for him to take in. He definitely seems to be thinking about it intently. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had that before.”
“What?”
“Sex. With the right person. I mean, there have been the right-for-the-night people, but never the right person. Does that make sense?”
To me, nope, not really. Sex with anyone other than someone I really care about always winds up being too stressful and anxiety-inducing. But I get the sentiment of what he’s saying. “It does, but there’s no hurry, right? I mean, hookups have their place too.”
Apparently. Ask Foster. Then again, I’ve never had to ask and he’s given me all the details anyway. So glad that little habit came to an end.
“True. Hookups are awesome.” He says that, but it doesn’t feel genuine. He’s probably humoring me at this point, because I have somehow landed in his arms, and he is guiding me toward the curbside. That’s enough sex talk for one night, thanks. Especially considering sex is usually a topic I try to avoid, but my brain seems stuck on a loop of Cohen, Witcher, Richie’s dick, cum-splashed abs.
Mmm … and those are some abs.
I used to wish I could be as sex-obsessed as everyone else, but now I’m thinking it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Especially considering I want to sneak away and watch that video one more time. To hear Richie’s tone right on the edge as he gasps out my nickname.
And I really hate that somehow my brain is making links between Cohen and what I did with Richie.
It might have only been a dick pic and jerk-off video, but there was nothing sleazy about the experience. If anything, it made me feel closer to Richie and enhanced what we have.