Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
It’s a common theme these days, and it’s only exacerbated when Hollis is physically around. He’d been glaring at me all evening while Essie’s friend—Brandon? Brayden? I can’t even remember his name—flirted with me. That guy was nice enough, but his wasn’t the attention I’d wanted.
“How was the massage?” I ask.
“I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but it was what I needed.” Hollis’s gaze moves over my face, then dips lower, beneath the water. “How long have you been down here?”
I lift one shoulder. “Half an hour maybe.”
“Not the most practical swimwear for laps,” he observes.
“I like the challenge of trying to keep it from falling off,” I reply.
His brow arches. “You’re a fucking problem, Princess.”
“I know.” I extend a hand. The ladder is only a few feet away, but I don’t even have to ask for help. His chivalry kicks in, and his fingers close around mine.
The electric zing makes my breath catch and goose bumps rise along my arm. The same reaction echoes across his skin. I brace a foot on the edge of the pool and a hand on his shoulder as he pulls me out of the water in one smooth motion. As soon as I’m steady on my feet, he releases me.
Neither of us moves. We just stand there, eyes locked, all the words I want to say stuck in my throat.
“Come on.” He inclines his head toward the hot tub.
I cross my arms, as if it will protect me from whatever is coming. I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling young and stupid and like I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Hollis and I have, by design, only been alone for a few minutes at a time since all this began weeks ago, and unless someone comes down to use the pool, we’ll have a full forty-five minutes of me, him, and the giant elephant in the form of my out-of-control crush. He must read my uncertainty on my face.
“That’s why you’re down here swimming laps in a bikini instead of your one-piece, isn’t it?” Of course he knows what bathing suit I usually wear for laps. We’ve been down here plenty of times together in the past. But the weight of the last few weeks makes the air heavy and the energy between us charged.
I remove my swim cap, running my fingers through my hair so I don’t wring my hands.
He sighs softly, but his expression remains stoically neutral. “Come talk with me.”
He turns and walks toward the hot tub. My gaze moves in a hungry sweep over his broad back. For a moment, I imagine what it would feel like to dig my nails into his rock-solid hockey butt while he sank into me. Would he be a gentle lover? Possessive? Dominating? All the above?
I follow him, stepping into the bubbling water. It’s deliciously warm. He stretches his arms across the edge, and I sit to his left, a few inches from his fingertips.
“How’s school?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“I know what I want to do, and I’m ready to start my career,” I say.
“Don’t wish the semester away,” he says gently.
“I’m not. I’m just done with university life.” I could apply for a master’s program, but I want to be where I fit in the best, and that’s working for the league.
“University was some of the best years of my life,” Hollis says.
“Yeah, because you played for the university team and every girl wanted to sleep with you. I’m the daughter of a professional hockey player. It’s a lot different for me,” I remind him.
We’ve talked about this plenty of times, especially during my first year, when I learned the hard way that my popularity was tied to my dad’s fame. I dated a guy who had friends on the school hockey team for a couple of months. I figured it was fine because he wasn’t a player, until he started pushing to meet my dad, and then I realized it wasn’t me he wanted to date. It was my last name.
“Has that been tough for you lately?” he asks.
“Dad’s twentieth anniversary with the league is this year, so he’s gotten a lot of media attention. Most of the time my classmates are cool, but there’s always some awkwardness when someone gets all fanboy. Working with Hemi was great, because she gave me free rein on community-outreach projects. But going back to regular classes…” I drag my fingers along the surface of the water and sigh. It’s a reminder of how different my life is. “I used to want to fit in with my classmates so badly.”
“Not anymore?” he asks.
“It’s not realistic. I don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a normal house with a mom and a dad who have regular jobs. My mom lives her nomad life and works as a healer. My dad has always been a professional hockey player. I’ve always lived this life, but most of my classmates can’t and don’t get it. I can’t be my most authentic self around my peers, but when I’m with the girls, or you, or anyone else on the team, I can just be me.”