Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I don’t even try to pretend I’m not riveted on this dumb, annoying game until the final buzzer sounds and the Rebels are congratulating each other on their win. A strange giddiness flutters in my chest.
Are they going to talk to Rylan after the game? They usually do that, right? It’s not my finest moment, but I keep my ass in the chair until the after-game press conference starts and Rylan Pierce is coming to sit in front of a microphone. He’s wearing a Dominating Athletics T-shirt and holding the company’s water bottle, which he places just right so the name is showing. His hair is wet like he jumped into a quick shower before he came out.
“Another good game for you tonight, Pierce,” a reporter says.
His scruffy jawline catches my attention, and when he grins, I nearly melt. “Just good? I was thinking more along the line of phenomenal.”
The reporters laugh.
I roll my eyes, though a small part of me finds his confidence charming.
“Really, though, like always, it was a team effort. Mads was a monster in the net. Volkov’s shot was on point. Stevens and I were in sync. It’s a team sport, and we can’t win without each other.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t think you’re King Hockey,” I tell Rylan through the computer.
“That’s true,” the reporter says, “but you have to admit, you’ve been playing like a man on a mission lately.”
“I’m always on a mission—the Stanley Cup,” Rylan replies.
Sports culture is so strange to me, but I do understand the urge to win, to be the best. It’s what my parents set out to do with the Rockwell, and I continue to fight for their vision for our brand.
“Have you been doing anything different lately?” another reporter asks him.
“I work hard. I’ve always worked hard, and I’ve always been the best, but I think I’ve found myself some good pucking luck.” He smirks and winks at the camera, and I almost swallow my tongue. My heart slams against my chest, and the corners of my lips pull up into a grin of my own. I tell myself to stop smiling because none of this means anything. And I don’t want it to mean anything, but for a reason I can’t explain, I feel like I’m the one who won the game tonight.
My face feeling hot, I shut down my computer and pack up my things. When I get into the elevator, my phone buzzes, and though I’d like to be able to ignore it, there’s no chance I can.
With quick hands I tug it out of my pocket, knowing whom it will be.
Rylan: Did you watch me play?
Me: No.
Rylan: Liar.
Me: Only the last period!
Shit. Why did I admit that?
Rylan: You’re so fucking cute.
Me: Stop saying that.
The elevator dings, and I get out.
Rylan: Why would I do that? It’s fun telling you how much I want you.
My cheeks heat. Ugh. What is it with this guy?
Me: I don’t believe you.
I can’t believe him.
Rylan: I know, cutie, but it’s true. I’m gonna spend the next six months showing you how fucking irresistible you truly are and that anyone who doesn’t see it is an idiot.
I stare at the screen, unsure how to even reply to that, while my stomach gets all fluttery.
Me: Anyway…good game. You’re heading to Florida?
Rylan: You looked up my schedule.
Me: Just so I could see when we’d have sex next.
Lie, lie, lie.
Rylan: Yep, Florida. That’s why I messaged. We’re heading to the airport now. But funny how you think we have to wait until I’m home to have some fun together. I’ll text you tomorrow.
I gulp. What is he…what the fuck is he talking about?
Me: Wait. What? Tell me what you mean!
But of course, he doesn’t answer.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rylan
“At some point tonight, I’ll need you to head out for a bit so I can video call Hayes to jerk off,” I tell Mads, who’s lying in the second bed in our Florida hotel room. We arrived late last night and spent most of the day conditioning, going over film, and resting. We’ll do much of the same tomorrow before the game that evening, then head to Nashville.
He turns his head my direction. “I would ask if you’re shitting me, but I know you better than that.” I’d filled him in about who Hayes is after the night Hayes had come to my house. It was a shock to say the least, but Mads had rolled with it.
“I can’t help it! He’s hot, the sex is great, and we already know it’s not just me swallowing his cum that’s good luck, but hooking up in general. Now I have to see if it works long distance too.”
Mads sighs, but I know he understands where I’m coming from. This is just how hockey players are. “You’re lucky I want to win.”