Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
His back is to me, so I can’t see his face.
What I can see, however, is the defined muscular globes of his ass and the dimples on either side.
I look away immediately. Why the fuck am I checking out his ass?
He takes out a shirt, wipes himself down, then pulls up his jeans and boxers, tucking himself back in.
I’m still salty that his cock is huge. Downright offended.
There goes my bragging rights.
Boo.
Marcus turns around and I tense, ready for impact.
Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out two candies, and shoves them into my hand. “Good luck with the game tomorrow.”
His voice is neutral. Too neutral. Flat and emotionless.
I don’t like it. Not at all.
I prefer for him to hit me.
Before I can examine whatever the hell that tone means, he grabs his duffle bag and stick and walks out of the locker room.
Leaving me alone with a thousand questions and an absolutely catastrophic sexuality crisis.
Because, as much as I hate admitting it…that was, without competition, the best sex I’ve ever had.
I sag against the locker, my hands cradling my forehead.
I need to end this dangerous fixation before it ends me.
13
MARCUS
Ileave the coach’s office with a smile on my face.
A couple of high-profile agents got in touch with him after my phenomenal performance yesterday. The coach said nothing is set in stone and that they’ll continue to watch me for the rest of the season, but if I play my cards right, I might be one of the most anticipated NHL draft picks of the year.
I need to call my mom and tell her the news. She’ll be thrilled.
She made it to the game yesterday as it was at home, and she always tries to attend those, but then she was called for an emergency during the third period. We were supposed to have dinner together, but she texted and said she’d be late.
Didn’t matter. I still fixed some pasta, and we had it at midnight when she returned.
It always makes her happy when I cook and we have meals together. Besides, I wasn’t interested in the usual meetup with the team at the club, and Mom is really the only one I like to celebrate my wins with.
Practice finished a while ago and I should head to class. But first, I have to tell Mom the good news.
As I’m walking down the hall, I pull out my phone to call her.
“Morning, brother dearest.”
I come to a halt, slowly lifting my head to find none other than my half-sister standing by the wall.
Serena Osborn.
She doesn’t blend in—she edits the air so that it fits her.
She’s dressed in a tailored pantsuit that screams power and stature, her brown hair falling in waves to her squared shoulders. The red on her lips matches her shoes and nails, deliberate splashes of color in a grayscale world.
And she’s smiling the same way Dad smiles—polite, attractive, and dangerous enough to feel like she’s aiming a loaded gun at you.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, searching our surroundings. “This place isn’t open to outsiders.”
“You believe I can be denied entry anywhere?” She laughs, the sound rich and mocking. “You still have a long way to go in order to understand how we operate, Marcus.”
Right.
This isn’t the first time I’ve met Serena. She dropped by the shop briefly around the same time Dad started to bug me.
Her approach was different from that of Dad’s people, since Serena wants only one thing from me—to stay away.
“I didn’t make it this far for you to appear out of nowhere and reap the rewards of my hard work,” she said, smiling in that fake-ass way people from that town do. “You understand, right, Marcus? If you do as you’re told, I’ll help you and June out.”
Her help included putting a guard on Mom. His mission is to watch from afar, so she doesn’t get ambushed and isn’t used against me.
Serena also offered money that I refused, but I did tell her to invest in our hockey team. That’s how I got my replacement sticks after they were broken by a certain pain in the ass.
I take a deep breath to dispel him from my head. Not now.
I’m not thinking about Preston right now.
“To what do I owe this visit first thing in the morning?” I ask her.
“I was around and thought I’d check on you in case you need anything. You know, like when you asked me for access to the Armstrongs’ forest? What came out of that anyway?”
“You said no questions asked, Serena.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” She lifts both hands in mock surrender, her black ring shining on her right index finger.
I’ve seen something similar on Preston’s index finger, but his had a sun and half-moon engraved within while Serena’s has a lion’s head surrounded with gears.
They represent each family’s crest, I believe. Something the heirs would wear.