Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Clarke tips her face my way, eyebrows raised in question. I doubt she’s ever treated herself to a facial or a massage. Not that she’s broke—though she’s frugal because she needs to be while owning her own business—but mainly because she rarely takes the time to do nice things for herself.
I bend slightly, putting my hand around the nape of her neck. “You should go relax with the girls. We have five days to test out that mattress.”
Clarke’s face clouds with worry, a bit of embarrassment tinging her cheeks. She murmurs so only I can hear her, “Do you know how much something like this costs?”
Fuck.
Clarke is a proud woman and it took a lot of damn browbeating to get her to accept my offer to come here without an agreement that she would cover some of her expenses. For example, she didn’t want to pay for first-class. However, I already had my ticket purchased, and I wasn’t about to ride in coach. We compromised, and she let me pay the difference in costs.
I take her by the elbow, glancing over her head at Regan, Willow, and Brooke before leading Clarke a few steps away. I need to nip this shit in the bud so Clarke can just have a good time instead of second-guessing everything.
“My contract with the Vengeance is a four-year deal worth thirty-two million dollars,” I say bluntly.
Clarke goes pale, her mouth dropping open.
I pull her a little farther away, dipping my face closer to hers. “Listen… I get you work hard for what you have, and I also get that what you and I have going on is very new. But I want you to have a great time this week, and I’d like to treat you to this trip. I make so much freaking money it would be the equivalent of a regular Joe buying you a dozen roses for the hell of it. It’s a drop in the bucket.”
She just stares, face blank and unaffected by my words. I worry I’ve offended her, so I rush to ask, “Was that pretentious? Because I didn’t mean it that way. I just want to make you feel special, I want you to have an amazing week, and I want you to do it without one single worry in your pretty head.”
Clarke glances over her shoulder at the waiting women, then back. Her hand comes to my chest, and she tips her head back so her eyes meet mine. There’s a soft smile on her lips. “I think what you just said was incredibly sexy, not pretentious at all. And that’s me, trying to let go of my past and realize you are you, and not like anyone else I’ve ever known. So, I will accept their invitation and your generous offer, and I will make it up to you this evening where we will not only attempt to test the mattress, but we will also endeavor to break the bed.”
I’m sure if Clarke and I end up becoming a permanent thing—that lasts the test of time like some of my other teammates have been fortunate enough to find—I know I’ll look back on this moment, and those words she just gave me, and realize this is probably the beginning of when I really began to fall for her.
“Sounds like a plan,” I murmur before giving her a deep kiss filled with the promise of better things to come. It’s apparently such a good kiss—perhaps not the type to be made in public—that I’m vaguely aware of the ladies nearby giggling.
I let Clarke up from the power of my mouth, loving that dazed expression she often gets when I kiss her, and make a show of turning her toward the women. Giving her a pat on her ass, I push her toward them. “Might as well get going. Start hanging out with them now. Those drinks look great.”
Clarke grins over her shoulder, then moves off to join what looks like a hell of a lot of trouble. Brooke loops her arm through Clarke’s. They all take off through the lobby, disappearing through a side door.
“Are you ready to check-in, sir?” I hear from the reception desk, realizing it’s my turn. Snickers from behind me have me pivoting, and I see some of the young pups there. Two of the rookies—Vance Gather and Trace LaForge—appear incredibly amused.
“Shut up,” I growl.
CHAPTER 17
Clarke
I feel out of place, yet, I don’t.
The glass of champagne in my hand will be my start toward making me feel more comfortable, but the part that’s freaking me out the most is being in an alien environment. I’m naked under a plush, white robe while my feet are being scrubbed, pumiced, and polished. We’re in a large room with subtle lighting and eight pedicure chairs complete with bubbling feet basins and massagers in the backs.