Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
"Did she just accuse Cap of participating in a circle jerk?" Logan mumbles to Diego Tapia, who is staring at me with wide brown eyes and a shellshocked expression.
"Jesus fucking Christ." River falls against Jordan, choking on laughter.
Jordan just shakes his head and shoves him off, muttering something I can't hear. That's probably for the best. I don't think I want to know what he's thinking right now.
Judging by the way the whole team is looking at me, I don't want to know what any of them are thinking right now.
Rambling when I'm nervous has never done me any favors.
"Uh, I think she just accused all of us of participating in a circle jerk," Joaquin Reed answers for Diego.
"No. She just accused all of you of participating in multiple circle jerks," someone growls from behind me half a second before a pair of rough, callused hands cover my eyes.
My protest dies in a whimper as a hard body presses into me from behind. The faint smell of sweat is immediately eliminated by the delicious, spicy scent of his cologne. My head spins, my stomach doing this twisting spin maneuver I like a little too much.
"Pretty sure she meant you too, Nash," someone calls out.
"The hell she did," Nash Whatley growls, his lips dangerously close to my ear. His naked chest vibrates against my back, and I think I whimper. Why does he smell so good? Why is his body so ridiculously hard? Better question, why is he covering my eyes when I'm pretty sure he's naked? I didn't see him, and I'd very much like to see him.
I'm not what they call a puck bunny and never have been. I only keep up with the team because they're pretty much my dad's whole life…and will be mine soon, too. But it's impossible to watch this sport and not know about Nash Whatley, even if this is his first season with the Carvers.
He's a beast of a man with an iron will, gorgeous emerald eyes, and a deadly smirk. Female fans swoon over him in droves, but he never pays them a single bit of attention.
It's one of a million things that make him so fascinating.
His parents were killed in a horrific accident his last year of college. His little sister, Aspen, nearly died too. He was a shoe in for the draft that year. Instead, he opted out. He moved back home and took care of Aspen, only getting back into the game once she was fully recovered. He worked his way up from the minor leagues while raising her, and has been smashing records ever since.
My dad really likes him. And I really like looking at him when they pan to him during games. If now is my one chance to see all of him before I have to pretend I'm a professional with my shit together, I am so taking it.
"Hey. Let me go," I grumble, squirming against him, but I might as well be trying to move a brick wall. He doesn't even budge.
"Out of the locker room, princess. Now."
How he manages to keep my eyes covered and march me toward the door is a mystery, but he makes it seem easy.
"Good luck with your…activities!" I call to the team. "Use lotion!"
"Jesus Christ," someone—probably Jordan—mutters.
"You're fun. Please come back soon," Logan calls through laughter.
"No, thanks. Too many dicks, not enough brain bleach."
"Did anyone else notice that she's been insulting us and our dicks since she burst in here?" someone asks.
Their voices fade as a blast of cool air and the aroma of stale popcorn slaps me in the face. Half a second later, I hear the locker room door groan closed behind us.
Nash drops his hands, and I find myself staring at the cinderblock wall outside of the locker room. For a moment, he keeps his body pressed to mine before he slowly steps back.
I immediately spin to face him…only to realize he's still a lot closer than anticipated. I land against his naked chest, staring at a memorial tattoo inked over his heart.
"Jesus," he grunts, his arms going around me as he hauls me closer. He dips his head, his eyes meeting mine. I knew they were gorgeous, but damn. They're deadly up close and personal, flecks of gold scattered throughout the rich emerald. Something dark and vast flows through them as he stares at me. It's…intense, like staring at the surface of the sun.
"You aren't naked," I say…the first thing that comes to mind.
His lips twitch. So does his dick.
I immediately drop my gaze to steal a peek. What? I'm not the staff psychologist yet.
He quickly halts me with a finger under my chin, tilting my head up toward him.
"Eyes up here, baby girl."
"Why?"
"You don't need to see what's happening down there."
"Why not?"
He stares at me levelly. "Do you always ask so many questions?"