Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
He stares at me like he’s waiting for me to go on. “Wait. You’re serious.”
“I am.”
“This isn’t one of those situations where you say I can go and then follow me, is it?”
“No.”
“Even though Aleks will be there.”
I try really hard not to clench my jaw. “As much as we both like to pretend I’m in control of you, if you really wanted to go and screw up, you would. With or without me. But remember …” I stand and round the counter to stop in front of him. Then I tilt my lips to his ear, “If you choose Aleks, this thing with us is done. And no amount of teasing and flirting and fucking yourself in bathrooms will change that.”
His stool makes him a fraction shorter than me, and I love the look in his eyes when he glances up at me. “Noted.” He grabs the front of my shirt and tugs me in closer. “But if you’re not going to follow me, how would you ever know?”
“Because …” My eyes fall closed for a second, unable to believe these words are about to come out of my mouth. “I’m choosing to trust you. For an entire day. To make your own decisions. Keep yourself out of the headlines and be back here for dinner, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, really?”
“Don’t get too excited,” I point out, stepping away. “You have to do it first.”
“I think you’re underestimating a hockey player’s need to win.”
“Maybe, but I think I’m estimating your need for trouble just fine.”
He gets up and grabs his plate, but I take it from him. “I’ll clean up. You go.”
“I could get used to all this domestic shit. You cooking for me most nights and cleaning now? Plus orgasms on top? Heaven.”
I sigh as he slaps me on the ass and bounces away to get ready.
Then I spend the morning hoping I haven’t made the wrong decision again.
“You’re game,” Keerson says. “A whole day? You do know the trouble Oskar can get himself into with that much time at his disposal, don’t you?”
“We’ll see.”
“Quick, let’s email the PR department and place bets on what he’s going to do to make our lives hell.” He grabs his phone, and I pluck it from his grip.
“No need. Oskar has been on track the last few days, so I’ve given him a few hours off. He knows if he wants any more than that, he’ll need to play nice.” I don’t bother getting into the real reasons with Keerson. How Oskar found out his talent isn’t enough to coast on for the rest of his career. I think seeing an actual consequence outside of the multiple slaps on the wrists he’s had has been a reality check for him, and … I’m not convinced Oskar wants to be that guy.
Which is not a thought I should be having. Tempting my protective side is an idiot move.
Keerson stares at me, disbelief all over his face. “He’s really got you fooled.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“This isn’t like …” He lets out a quick burst of air. “I know you’re a professional, and you’re one of the best PR bosses I’ve had—way better than the last one—but … you don’t want to sleep with him, do you? Like, it’s Oskar Voyjik, so you probably do, but you wouldn’t is what I’m saying … right?”
I chuckle. “You don’t need to worry about me.” I’ve already crossed every possible career line there is.
“Phew. I think he’s hot, and I’m straight—I can’t imagine how it is for a gay guy.”
“The same as any other man. I have a type, and I have self-control.” And maybe if I keep telling myself that, it’ll be true at some point. “Both mine and Oskar’s careers are tied together. If I don’t want to be his shadow for the rest of his time in the NHL, then I need to make sure he can be trusted to make his own choices. Otherwise, what’s the point of all this?”
“I guess, but … man. That’s a big ask. I barely lasted as long as you have now, and by the time I was done, I was ready to smother him with his own pillow.”
“Oh, I’ve been there, trust me.” I’ve also smothered him with my cock a few times, which has been fun. “But I get enough of Oskar in my day. How’s the family?”
Keerson is easily distracted and fills me in on everything from potty training to new words to his wife’s morning sickness. And as sweet as it is when he talks about them, it makes me happier than ever that kids are not in my future.
We’re almost done with lunch when my phone dings, and I’m hit with a sinking feeling. I only have one email account set up with a notification sound—the others get too many emails to bother—and there’s only one thing I use that email for.