Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Every time I try to talk to Oskar about it, he laughs and says how he got the good drugs. The avoidance isn’t a worry at all.
I wet the washcloth and gently start to clean the area, but the second I make contact, Oskar lets out a loud shout and jerks away.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Guilt hits me for a full second before Oskar drops his hand from his face.
He smiles. “Got you.”
That asshole. I punch his shoulder. On his injured side, so he barely sees me coming.
“Hey, I’m wounded, you jerk,” he says, rubbing at where I hit him.
“And I’m trying to look after you, you jerk.”
“You’re just annoyed that you were fooled.”
“Better than having my face slashed open.” I turn his chin again, and this time, I hold his face as I clean it. He doesn’t try his shit again, and the whole time I gently dab at the skin, my mind is spinning, wondering how the hell this kind of injury is going to affect Oskar’s already fragile self-worth. I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter, that the scar will give him that edge to make him even sexier, and that it’s not fair he can take a skate to the face and somehow it makes me want him more than ever.
But focusing on his looks won’t help, and every time I try to point out that his personality is what’s important, he sneers and tells me I sound like a Lifetime movie.
I’m almost done when Oskar reaches out and runs his hands up my thighs. I’m only in my boxer briefs, so it’s immediately obvious what his contact does to me.
“Stop it,” I murmur.
“Stop what?”
I swear under my breath. “You’re such a brat.”
“You like it though.”
His blue eyes flick up to meet mine, and I’m caught in his stare. My thumb lightly strokes his good cheek. “Yeah, I do.” Then my grip tightens on his jaw, and I lean down so we’re a breath apart. “But not while you’re injured and can’t do anything about it. Just remember that everything you do to tease me now will come back at you tenfold once you’re better.”
“That really isn’t the threat you think it is.”
And he’s so lighthearted and matter-of-fact about it that a laugh slips from me. I straighten and drag my hand back through my hair. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
“You could spank me again. Oooh, better yet, give me a pounding. My ass can take it.”
“With how vocal you are, I don’t trust you not to split your stitches open. We both know how you like to scream for me.”
“I can be quiet.”
“That’s total bullshit.” Smiling, I lean down and brush a kiss over his lips. “You sure you want to do this hockey camp thing today?”
His nod is immediate, and a bit of seriousness takes over. “I promised I would.”
“No one would blame you for backing out.”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
He already knows me too well. “Say what?”
“Urg.” Oskar huffs. “I want to go.”
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He flips me off and stands up to take a piss while I pass back into our hotel room to find some clothes. We didn’t share a bed last night, and even though we don’t when we’re at home, usually while we’re away, we collapse after sex and don’t move again. Last night, when I climbed into my bed, Oskar watched me with an unreadable look on his face. Tension flooded the room and existed long after we turned out the lights.
I’d wanted more than anything to crawl in beside him. To let him know I was there and that he could use me for support if he needed it, but without sex, I couldn’t work out how to cross that line that I’m beginning to wish didn’t exist between us.
“I still think you should wear a suit,” I call out to him, grabbing my shirt and shrugging it on.
“Fuck no. This isn’t a game. I’m not going on the ice. I’ll be wearing my San Jose workout gear, and if anyone says shit, I’ll remind them that I took a skate to the face and then ask them how their week is going.”
I refuse to laugh, even though I so want to. Technically, what I should be doing is arguing and reminding him who’s in charge here, but getting a chance to see Oskar in a tight San Jose T-shirt and gym shorts that show off those muscular calves isn’t something I want to deprive myself of.
“You’re going to milk this injury for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”
“If you have to ask that question, I’m going to start thinking you’re not very good at your job.”
“Tell me how many other PR reps managed to get you under their thumb?”