Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
And all I could think about was getting her back to Seattle and directly to my place.
Emily
“People see the uniforms, the smiles, the performances — but what they don’t always see is the sisterhood. These women show up for each other in ways that go far beyond the field. And that kind of commitment deserves to be honored, not just applauded.”
“We couldn’t agree more. Ashley and I talk about this a lot on the pod, how it feels like as women in sports, we’re expected to just be like… happy to be here. Lucky, even. Like hey, you’re welcome, don’t expect more!”
“Exactly. And that’s the thing. We’re not just dancers. We’re athletes. We train year-round, we cross-train, we rehab injuries, we perform under pressure in front of tens of thousands of people — and we do it with precision. That’s not a hobby. That’s a profession.”
“You look like you want to say more on that…”
“Well… I guess it’s just become apparent to me that while we’re expected to perform as athletes, we’re not expected to be paid as such. And that doesn’t sit right with me. It never has. I mean, almost every member of my team has another job or a family member who financially supports them.”
“Which is insane.”
“I think so, yes. We love what we do. We audition against hundreds of other dancers because we want the chance to be on that field. We’re passionate as hell… but passion doesn’t pay rent — and it shouldn’t be used as an excuse not to pay women fairly.”
“I can’t think of a better note to end on. Emily, thank you so much for being here with us today. And folks listening, if you want to follow Emily and her road to recovery and back to the field, you can find her at…”
I reached over to hit the pause button, freezing my smile along with the two podcast hosts of The Fifth Quarter on Braden’s laptop screen. Silence stretched in his bedroom, which was currently bathed in a warm afternoon sunlight glow.
“Wow,” he said.
“Wow good, or wow you shouldn’t have said that?”
He chuckled, closing his laptop and moving it to his bedside table before he pulled me into him. I took the invitation willingly, bracing my palms and elbows on his chest as he slid one hand around the small of my back and propped the other arm behind his head.
“Wow, you’re beautiful and smart as hell, and I’m having a hard time not starting round three.”
My neck heated, and I buried my embarrassed smile in his chest. “Stop, it wasn’t that good. Besides, I don’t think you could handle round three after that ice play.”
“Try me,” he dared, nuzzling into my neck with a kiss that curled my toes.
I pressed against his chest so I could look at him fully. “You really think it was good?”
“I do,” he promised. “What I’m having trouble understanding is why you don’t. Emily, you were poised, professional, smart as a whip, charming. What are you worried about?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. The fact that I called out the people who pay me for not paying me more.”
“Maybe they need to be called out.”
“Oh, they do. But probably not by an injured cheerleader who is so old she likely only has a season or two left.”
“I hate when you do that.”
“What? Point out my injury?”
“Act like thirty is old.”
I sighed. “Sadly, it is in the world of professional dance.” I shook my head, flexing my fingers in the cast that was splayed on Braden’s chest. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think now, I guess. What’s done is done.”
“I think it was amazing. I’m proud of you.”
Braden leaned up then, kissing me sweetly, that familiar mint and lavender scent brushing my nose as he did.
It was Tuesday, rest day, and I was curled up with Braden like a cat pretending nothing else in the world existed. He was supposed to be resting, but rest was the last thing on either of our minds when I showed up at his door last night after we both finished up at the stadium — him with meetings, me with practice.
Because we had a list to check off, and we weren’t even halfway through it.
Ice play had been fun — the way he teased me by dragging the frigid cubes along my skin as they melted, the way I held a cube in my mouth as I tasted him, torturing him with the mixture of discomfort and pleasure.
Before that, we’d masturbated together — which was hotter than I ever imagined it could be. I’d been so wet just at the sight of Braden with his cock in his hand, with the hungry way he watched my hand moving between my thighs. I thought it would be kind of awkward, but nothing was with Braden now.