Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Luca grins wickedly, plainly realizing he’s got a fish on his line. “Oh, it’s worth a whole lot more than that, baby, but it’s the best I can offer you, considering how few minutes they’ll likely put me in.”
I take a step forward, and the air between us feels like it’s become electrified. “If you ask me, the promise of me spreading my legs for you should be worth at least ten sacks.”
“Ten?” Luca looks equal parts aroused and dismissive, and I’m sure that’s a byproduct of my word choice being so raunchy and my number being preposterously stratospheric. The record for the most sacks ever in one game is seven. Derrick Thomas, 1990. And that was in a full four quarters of playing time. These days, even the best Pro Bowlers in the game, guys who get a whole lot more minutes than Luca will get tomorrow, average only about a sack per game. And even then, that’s just an average, not a guarantee they’ll even get a single sack in any given matchup.
“Sweetheart,” Luca coos, taking a step forward. “Be reasonable now. You know I’m not gonna get nearly enough reps to pull off more than one sack tomorrow, if that. They’ve still got three guys to rotate in and out.”
I bite my lower lip. “Losers make excuses, sweetheart. Winners make it happen.”
His dark eyes blaze. “I’ll get you two sacks, baby. I promise I’ll move heaven and earth to make that happen for you.”
“You should move heaven and earth regardless. And like I said, my price is ten.”
He steps forward again, a smile curling his gorgeous lips. “Ten isn’t your price, and you know it. And two is fair because it’s a stretch. Come on, Chelsea. Yes, I’ll be moving heaven and earth regardless, but the mind is a complicated place. If I knew two sacks would mean finishing what we started the other day before Raul cockblocked me, I know I’d have superhuman strength and focus. It’ll be like how a mother can suddenly lift a car to free her pinned child.”
I’m a very bad girl for giggling at his metaphor, and an even worse girl for wanting so desperately to say yes, yes, yes to this bet. I mean, what would be the downside, really? He’s right that I’m no longer his coach. Also, that motivation is a complicated thing. Hence, the booming “life coach” industry. And if Luca somehow miraculously pulls off multiple sacks in the few minutes of playing time he’ll get, then, glory be, I’d be so horny and hot for him after a performance like that, I’m sure I’d be thrilled to throw every caution to the wind and every rule out the window.
“Get me three sacks tomorrow, and you’ve got a deal.”
“Three?” Luca bellows. “Have mercy on me, woman. The number has to at least be within the realm of possibility to motivate me.”
“Three is very doable, or I wouldn’t suggest it. You can do this, Luca. I know you can.” I shrug. “Either way, that’s my best and final offer.”
Luca lets out a huff. “For that price, you’d not only have to ride my baloney pony, you’d have to be my plus-one at a party, too. That’s my final offer.”
He’s piqued my interest. “What party?”
“At Roman’s. At his new house in LA.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Just hear me out.”
“No.”
“My brother’s throwing a housewarming party, and he specifically planned it for my day off so I can make it.”
“No.”
“Chelsea, he’s even sending a private jet for me. I mean, assuming I’m not cut by then. If I am, I’m sure I’ll fly commercial. But the point is since it’s your day off, too, it’d be the easiest thing in the world for you to come with me.”
“Whether you get three sacks or thirty, you’ll be attending Satan’s housewarming party on your own.”
“But you coming with me would give us time to work together again! Think about it. We could study film on the plane, both ways, and Roman’s got a state-of-the-art gym at his house and a huge backyard, so we could get in at least a couple hardcore training sessions while we’re out there together, too.”
“You’re insane to even suggest this. I’m not going to a party hosted by the devil.”
“Chelsea, please. He’s not the devil to me. He’s my big brother, and I’m asking you to come with me so you can help me train, if I’m lucky enough to still be in the hunt by then.”
Crap. When he looks at me so earnestly like that, like a cute little puppy, I melt into a puddle.
“I’m going to the party either way,” he adds. Apparently, he senses he’s making progress with me. “So this would be the only chance we’d have to train together again. Don’t you miss working together? I sure do.” He frowns. “Unless, of course, you’re working with Moriarty on our day off. Is that it?”