Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
He chuckled. “Sorry. How am I doing, by the way?”
“Terrible. Gotta cover that whole wall, babe. Not just one little patch,” I singsonged.
We worked quietly for a few minutes, listening to the sports highlights on the flat-screen like background music.
“I want to go on a date with you,” Bryson blurted out of the blue.
I flashed a megawatt grin his way. I didn’t even bother trying to be chill. “So…that’s a yes?”
He nodded. “Let’s go furniture shopping and see what that’s like.”
“Now I’m gettin’ all hot and bothered thinking about coffee tables and lamps.”
“Me too,” he snickered, moving to my side. “I’m free anytime. Except…Jake’s coming home next weekend for three days.”
“Ah, right.” I rubbed my neck, mentally preparing for a potentially uncomfortable conversation.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just…Vinnie suggested asking Jake to do a guest coaching spot for an hour or two. Do you think you he’d do it?”
“Absolutely! That’s a great idea,” he enthused. “Jake always hangs out at the El Rink when he’s home. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind going to the high school to help out instead.”
I scoffed. “He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t. Well, okay, he thinks he does, but Jake doesn’t know you. And it’s not about you or Jake, it’s about hockey and helping out in the community. Seriously, it’s a great idea.”
“Huh. I didn’t think you’d want us in the same room.”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t necessarily want to tell him about us,” Bryson hedged. “But you’re a great guy, and I think he could learn a lot from you.”
“True. I know shit,” I bragged. “Hey, do you think he’d mind if I told him that his snap shot is too wristy and that he’s too slow to get off the wall?”
Bryson made a yikes face. “You noticed that too?”
Oh, yeah. I’d never commented on Jake’s occasional flubs when I’d watched his televised games with his dad. I wasn’t a complete moron.
“Easy fixes or…the beginning of bad habits.”
“Well, constructive advice rather than criticism might work, but I wouldn’t lead with anything negative.” Bryson tugged at my tee and smiled up at me. “I’d really love for you to get to know each other. You live in Elmwood now and…”
“We’re neighbors.” I kissed his nose.
“And friends.” He nipped my earlobe.
“And fuck-buddies,” I added, biting his chin.
Bryson leaned sideways to dip into the paint on the nearby tray, then ran a wet finger from the bridge to the tip of my nose. “Don’t be rude, Errol.”
“Ohhh. Are we going there?”
“Whoa! Wait up. What are you doing?”
I fixed him with an innocent grin as I flattened my palm in the tray and placed a perfect handprint in the middle of his T-shirt. He gasped in faux outrage, pulling the fabric over his head in a huff.
“Oh, rookie move, babe. Now you have paint in your hair. C’mere, let me get it for you.”
I motioned Bryson closer, chuckling when he stepped away with his arms crossed as if he were protecting himself from a vampire. Which of course, made me want to give him the full vampire treatment. I bared my teeth, raising an invisible cape as I stalked forward.
“Smitty…no,” he admonished, his eyes alight with laughter.
I cornered him in an unpainted section—’cause again…not a total moron, we had a lot of work to do here—and captured his hands before playfully biting his neck.
“How do you feel about hickeys?”
“Not good. Not good at all,” he insisted, still chuckling.
“One tiny little one won’t hurt.”
“I will end you if you even think about it. I’m a professional. I’m a—”
I tickled him instead. And in a twist, Bryson Milligan, serious real estate agent to the Four Forest area, was very, very ticklish. He wiggled and out-maneuvered me, switching our position faster than I would have thought possible. I was taller and thicker all over, but the element of surprise definitely worked in his favor.
Sure, I could have escaped with little to no effort. I didn’t want to, though. I liked the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and that sweet, unfettered grin that made his dimples pop. He reminded me of the guy I’d hung out with in the hotel bar, chatting about everything and nothing in particular. This was the real Bryson.
And I really fuckin’ liked this man.
“You got me,” I growled in a deeper than normal voice. “Now what?”
“Now you’re going to keep your hands where they are and I’m going to get down on my knees and suck you.” He gripped my erection through my sweats and stroked. “Then you’re going to sit on the floor and I’m going to ride your beautiful cock.”
“You’re kind of bossy,” I panted, loving his rough hands on my pole.
“Yep. I’ve got you right where I want you…babe.” He licked the seam of my lips and bit them. “Got anything to say about that?”
Our gazes met and we smiled. It was one thing for me to throw around an offhanded term of endearment and quite another for Bryson to do it. This was a statement. Not a major declaration, but…something.