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)
“How does a realtor prove himself? Throw in complimentary hot tubs? Offer free massages for a year?”
“No,” he snorted. “By being the friendliest motherfucker that town has ever met.”
“How so?”
“I volunteer wherever I can. I used to ref youth hockey games and I emceed Friday night Bingo for years till Kathy Anderson took over. I still deliver groceries to elderly citizens and—”
“Are you fuckin’ with me? Sounds like you live in a fictional town from a 1950s sitcom. Or The Twilight Zone.”
“Reasonably accurate,” he conceded. “Just add hockey.”
“And dad jokes.” I eased one hip off the stool and stood slowly before distributing my weight on my sore limbs.
Bryson snickered, bumping my shoulder as we walked out of the bar together. “Yes! Why did the lobster blush?”
“No…don’t,” I pleaded, putting my hand up like a stop sign.
“It saw the ocean’s bottom. I know, I know. It’s terrible,” he agreed as we neared the bank of elevators. “I’ve got one more. Why do some couples go to the gym?”
“Please don’t tell me.”
“They want their relationship to work out.” He waggled his brows. “Work…out. Genius, huh?”
I fixed him with a deadpan stare and didn’t look away till the doors slid open. He hooted like a loon, grasping his side in hysterics.
I liked this guy. He was sexy and adorable and— No.
“What floor are you on?” I asked, pushing number three.
His gaze flitted to the lone light on the elevator panel. “Same as you.”
Silence filled the car as the doors closed. After our hour-long easy repartee at the bar, the air felt thick with the heady scent of desire.
Okay, that was probably just me. I wanted him.
There. I said it.
I wanted to cage Bryson against the elevator wall and shove my tongue in his mouth. I wanted to taste him, undo the buttons on his pressed shirt, and run my fingers down his chest. I wondered if he was hairy or smooth, cut or uncut. I wondered if he had any tattoos. I wondered if he manscaped or—
Ding.
Bryson darted his gaze my way, there and gone in an instant, as if he didn’t want to get caught. Was he checking me out too? Was he thinking the same thing? My cock swelled in my jeans at the very idea.
But the doors opened and he was gone.
And I was embarrassing myself.
I exhaled before meeting Bryson in the corridor in front of 355, my key card in hand as I prepared my exit speech and willed my libido to chill the fuck out. Easier said than done. He was transmitting signals I didn’t know how to read. Something in his eyes and the tilt of his chin felt like an invitation, but that had to be wishful thinking.
This is not happening, Smitty. This man is out of your league and then some. Not to mention, a bad idea. Say good-bye and get the fuck out.
“Uh, I’m just down the hall. That way.” I pointed unnecessarily, tapping my key card on my palm. “Safe travels tomorrow and thanks for the beers. It was nice to…”
My voice trailed off. I was rambling and Bryson was staring at me and—no, he was staring at my mouth, clenching his key card like a flashlight on a tricky expedition through a dark tunnel. Maybe he was nervous too. Or drunk.
No, maybe a little tipsy, but he was still sharp and coherent and sexy and—
“Oh, fuck it,” he growled, grabbing a handful of my tee and crashing our lips together.
He kissed me.
Bryson kissed me.
It took me a moment or two to catch up. Yeah, I wanted this, but was this really happening? Was he really kissing me?
Fuck yes, and I liked it.
I was too stunned to participate with conviction at first. His lips were soft yet firm, and the scratch of his bearded jaw felt so foreign. But so good.
Bryson pulled back slightly to lick the seam of my mouth, and I didn’t hesitate this time. I opened for him, whimpering like a kitten when he pushed inside, gliding his tongue along mine. One tentative stroke in and the last thread of restraint snapped. I clasped his face between my hands and took over, devouring him like a starving man.
I wasn’t known for subtlety on or off the ice. I followed my instincts. My instincts urged me to tackle, pounce, take everything he was willing to give, and return it tenfold.
We sucked face in the middle of the hallway, nipping, licking, and pawing at each other. Anyone who’d opened their door or hopped off the elevator, including one of my teammates, would get a show, and I didn’t give a flying fuck. I was too far gone, lost in a haze of desire I hadn’t felt in years. So many years.
Bryson broke for air and pushed out of my arms. His nostrils flared as he stepped toward his door.