Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“No, I love it. And I love fucking you.”
Impatient, she rode my hand like it was my cock. “Make me come,” she whispered against my lips.
“I always do.”
It didn’t take long before she was biting my lip between kisses. Her moans stifled by my mouth crashing into hers. She settled down after she came on my fingers, out of breath and looking like she wanted more. I withdrew my fingers from her pussy and licked her juices from them.
“You taste so good.”
She pressed her lips to mine, then licked my lips.
“Jesus, woman. I think you’re trying to kill me.”
“Or give you the worst case of blue balls in history.”
“Nah, babe. We’re continuing this later.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “How about now?”
I glanced over at my friends. Ethan looked like he was dying to leave, so maybe this was a good time to roll. Shane and Liam were having the time of their lives, each with two girls for themselves.
“Let me grab Ethan. Then we can go.”
She climbed off my lap and fixed her skirt into place. “Just tonight,” she warned. “So you better make the most of it.”
I smirked at her comment. “Oh, I plan on it.”
Chapter Six
CLARKE
The Morning After
Will’s cell phone snapped us out of our staring contest. Neither of us had spoken a word since we got dressed. What was there so say? We were getting the marriage annulled and going our separate ways.
He cursed into his phone, groaning as he listened to a woman yell on the other end. I sat on the bed and listened. It sounded like a business call.
“Let me talk to the GM. He’ll listen to reason.” He tugged at the ends of his hair. “No, this was not another publicity stunt.” With his back to me, Will sighed. “I don’t know. Let me talk to her.” He bobbed his head. “Yeah, okay. Okay, give me some time.”
Will hung up and then pocketed his phone. He pushed open the curtains and stared out the tall windows that overlooked the Las Vegas strip. I slid off the mattress and approached him with caution.
“Everything okay?”
“No,” he grunted. “Not even close.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing. Just work shit.”
“Because of the wedding?”
Eyes on the strip, he nodded. “I really fucked up this time.”
“Was that your publicist?”
“Yeah.”
“We should tell your sister about the wedding before she hears about it on social media.”
Will spun around to face me, knocking my hand off his shoulder as he walked away. “Let’s get this over with.”
A few minutes later, we hopped into the elevator. Will’s cell phone rang again, but he made no move to reach into his pocket.
“Are you going to answer that?”
He shook his head. “Nope, I’m too hungover and tired to listen to everyone bitch about how stupid I am this early in the morning.”
“Getting married in Vegas to a woman you hate seems pretty Romeo-like, don’t you think?”
I laughed as he groaned.
“I still don’t understand how we ended up at a chapel,” Will said in disbelief. “How did that even come up?”
I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. We don’t even like each other. Marriage will never be in the cards for us.”
“What if we stayed married?” Will gave me one of his boyish smirks. “There are perks.”
“Like what? Joint tax returns?”
He laughed. “I haven’t told Mia yet, but… The team manager called me into his office a few weeks ago. He brought in a fancy publicist who thinks I need an image boost.”
“Wow,” I said through a fit of laughter. “And you want me to pretend we’re married to save your career? Not happening. Being linked to you could ruin my career. I also have an image to protect.”
Will pushed off from the wall so he was in front of me, hovering over me with all of his masculinity and sex appeal. “You’re a reporter. It’s not the same as being a pro hockey player.”
“I get that you’re a celebrity in your own right,” I countered with irritation in my tone. “But I know what it’s like to have people follow you around for autographs. To have people inspect every aspect of your life for their amusement.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You do?”
“I told you about my dad, haven’t I?”
“Not really. You told me he won the Pulitzer and a bunch of awards for journalism.”
“He’s a legend,” I confessed. “And a hard act to follow. I can’t pretend we’re in love. Because we’re not. Even if I agreed to help you, it would feel forced. People would see right thorough it. And the fallout would destroy my career.”
He leaned in, smothering me in his delicious scent as he stroked my jaw with his fingers. “I like you, Clarke, always have.”
My jaw clenched at his words. “You never stuck around long enough to show me. Actions speak louder than words, Will.”