Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I wait for her to bang again, but she stays quiet.
And as RuPaul tells the queens they’d better work, I almost forget about the women at Pro-Bowl . . . and the guys they might’ve gone home with. Well, the guy, because I don’t care what my brother does, as long as I don’t have to hear the TMI details of it. But Griffin? Yeah, I’d like to know. For science, and nosiness. The science of nosiness!
Chapter 4
Griffin
There’s a storm cloud over my head shooting out lightning bolts at anyone who gets too close and rumbling with thunder every few seconds. Or fuck, maybe that’s me growling and snarling?
As if they can feel the charge in the air around me, everyone in the locker room leaves me alone, assuming I’m psyching myself up for tonight’s game. Truth is, I’m tired.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night.
Not that I’d admit it.
When Penny didn’t return from the restroom, worry crawled up my throat like the cheap tequila I drank too much of in high school. While Dom chatted up some overly eager puck bunny, I’d volunteered to ask one of the workers to check the stalls. She’d grinned as she informed me that Penny had walked out several minutes ago after seeing the “guests” at our table. I’d been pissed off . . . at the bunnies for ruining the few precious minutes I get with Penny, at Penny for leaving without a word, and at Dominic because I can’t swing by her place to check on her without him finding out about it. He’d laughed at his sister’s wingman behavior, promising to text her to make sure she was good. I’m sure he did, but he had no reason to inform me if Penny was snuggled cozily into her bed at home or dead in a ditch somewhere.
So I tossed and turned, and considered texting her myself about a dozen times. But I couldn’t. She wouldn’t have answered me anyway. Hell, she would’ve enjoyed not texting me back and gone to sleep dreaming of ways to irritate the fuck out of me. Not that it takes much where she’s concerned. Her beautiful, chaotic existence is enough to do that.
This morning, when I was supposed to be doing my trainer-prescribed meditation and silently reciting positive affirmations, all I could picture were her muscular legs sticking out of that too-short dress. I can’t believe Dom let her go out in that. I can’t believe she ignored my order to put something else on.
I can’t believe I felt her soft skin beneath my palms and her full breasts on my cheeks, or smelled the soft, feminine, faintly vanilla scent of the skin between them. Fuck, I’d wanted to nuzzle in closer, but surprisingly, I don’t have a death wish. Though I can still imagine the way she felt, and it does seem worth potentially dying over.
“Let’s do this!” Brody yells across the locker room, his hands clenched as he flexes, his eyes wild. He starts beating on his chest, the thuds echoing hollowly as he roars out some anxious energy. He’s hyped and trying to get the rest of us in the zone with him. A few of the guys do chime in, answering back with chest bumps and shouts of their own.
Bad mood aside, that’s not the vibe I prefer before games. No Viking rally cries for me. I’m typically quiet, tuning out everyone and everything, going introspective as I prepare for two and half hours of war, which is probably why no one has noticed my silence. Usually, I prep by visualizing the checks I’m gonna make, the fights I’m gonna have, and the win we’ll secure before the night is over.
Tonight, all I can think about is Penny, which is not only stupid but dangerous.
I consider asking Dom if he heard back from her last night, but don’t. He’s wearing headphones, his head bobbing lightly as he listens to the same playlist he always does before a game. By now, he’s probably raging out to “Bodies” by Drowning Pool, and it’d take a solid tap to pull him from his routine.
He’s here, though. That’s answer enough to reassure me that Penny is fine. She must be, or Dom would be scouring the streets for his beloved little sister, and her parents would be on the news promising every cent they own to get her back.
Fuck, I’m so far gone it’s ridiculous.
For a woman who hates me. For a woman I can’t have. For a woman I don’t deserve.
I grind my teeth on my mouthpiece as I close my eyes, telling myself that the cheerleaders will be out there before the game starts. They’ll do their pregame performance, then line up to shake their pom-poms as we skate onto the ice. I’ll see Penny and then get my head right before the puck drops.