Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Nope,” she smirks. “I really think you ought to help rub more oil into his skin,” she says, sliding the bottle along the ice until it slams right into my chest. I roll my eyes as she calls him over. “Oh, Miller,” she sings. “Dani needs to rub more oil into your skin,” she teases, which we all know is bullshit because the other guys had to put it on themselves. But of course, he happily plays along.
“Sure,” he says, skating over and coming to a stop right before me. He leans down, wraps his hands under my arms, and pulls me to my feet, keeping hold of me while I find my balance.
I squirt the oil into my palm and rub it between my fingers, heating it up, before placing it on his skin. I lift my hand to his strong chest and begin rubbing. He groans as the sexual tension between us intensifies. I move my hands lower, rubbing the oil into his abs and enjoying every damn second of it.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to lose my pants?”
“Well, actually, I was thinking I could do the shot with you in the weight room that I was going to do with Jax,” I explain, a little breathy.
“Sure, baby,” he whispers, sending thrills through me at the way he calls me baby.
I move the oil down over his arms, then turn him so I can work on his back. “Okay,” I say, giving him a push to give me space. “You’re done,” he goes out to the spotlight once again and turns to face me.
“How good is your aim with that puck?” I ask.
He raises a brow but doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply turns toward the open barrier gate, shoots the puck, and slams it right into the side of the metal trash can. “Okay, so you’re pretty good.”
He stands silently with a smug, proud expression.
“So, you need to shoot the puck so it comes flying past my face, by a few inches maybe . . . but I swear to God, if you miss . . .”
“I won’t miss,” he promises, focusing on me. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”
I slide back down to my stomach, feeling my hard nipples rub against the damp material of my bra and shirt, and hope that it isn’t too obvious that Miller can see. I get into position and adjust my camera. “Okay, I’m good.”
Miller rears back and shoots, and just as expected, the puck sails past my face with a whoosh of air. I do my best not to flinch and take as many shots as possible before pulling the camera away, immediately bringing up the pictures.
Yep. They’re awesome.
“Cool, I got it,” I smile, coming up onto my knees. Thank fuck I don’t have to do that again.
Miller and Tank come over to help us off the ice. “Who else have you got left to do?” Miller asks as he places me back down on the ground.
“Just you,” I say.
He gives me a knowing smile then turns to Tank. “Dani’s finished with the guys. Could you send them home?” he asks. Tank grunts and leads Sophie down toward the locker room, while Miller takes my hand and leads me to the weight room.
He closes the door behind him as we walk deeper into the room. He heads over to the weights then turns back to me. “What do you want?” he asks, sitting down and taking his skates off, and I realize I don’t know if he’s talking about the picture or our situation.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “Why don’t you try a few things and we’ll figure out what works,” I say, the double meaning clear in my tone.
“Pants or no pants?” he asks, getting up and standing before me with his eyes sparkling in excitement.
“Up to you.”
Miller’s hand slowly reaches for the button on his jeans, and with practiced moves, he flicks it open. His eyes rest heavily on mine as I raise my camera and begin shooting. He lowers the zipper and his jeans gently fall to the ground. Revealing his perfect, naked body.
Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
He turns away and leans over to pick up one of the larger dumbbells, giving me the perfect view of his toned ass. My camera gets a workout as I take shot after shot of his movements. “My ass better not end up in that calendar,” he warns. “Those pictures are just for you.”
He takes a seat on the bench, leaning forward just enough to cover himself, and begins to curl the weight.
Fuuuuuck.
My mouth waters, and I need to mentally slap myself to remember to lift the camera and take the shots. His impressive biceps bulge as he continues his set before switching hands. Because obviously, not working the other side would be criminal.