Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Have a seat already,” I say darkly.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Flicking up an eyebrow, she saunters to Coby and settles directly on his lap.
He makes a choked noise. Part surprise, part joy.
I narrow my eyes at her.
She smiles. “What’s wrong, Jakey? You told me to have a seat.”
“I think a chair would be more comfortable.” There’s an edge to my tone.
“Oh, but I’m super comfy right here.” She wraps a slender arm around Coby’s neck and rests her hand on his broad shoulder. He’s six-four and two hundred and forty pounds, making Brenna appear tiny in comparison.
I don’t miss the way his hand curls around her hip to keep her in place.
“Jensen,” I warn.
“Jensen! Hey!” Brooks, coming up for air, finally notices Brenna’s arrival. “When did you get here? Is Di Laurentis with ya?”
“No, Summer’s back in Hastings.”
“Oh. That sucks.” Shrugging, he resumes the game of tonsil-hockey he’s playing with our soon-to-be-unemployed waitress.
“So here’s the thing,” Brenna says. She might be in Coby’s lap, but she only has eyes for me. “You ordered Josh to break up with me.”
I raise my beer bottle and take a slow sip, contemplating what she said. “Break up, eh? I thought you weren’t dating.”
“We weren’t. But we had a good arrangement going. I liked him.”
It’s strangely frank of her. Most women probably wouldn’t enjoy admitting how much they liked the person who just dumped them. I experience a weird tug in my stomach at the notion that she might’ve actually been into McCarthy.
“I liked the way his hands felt on me,” she continues in a throaty voice, and suddenly every man at the table is eating up her every word. “I liked his lips…his fingers…”
A strangled cough comes from Adam the freshman. I silence him with a deadly glare. He gulps down some beer.
“I guess you’ll have to find other hands and lips and fingers to keep you occupied,” I tell her.
When Coby opens his mouth, I glare at him before he can volunteer his body parts. His mouth promptly slams.
“I told you, you don’t get to make decisions for me,” Brenna says coolly.
“I didn’t make any decisions for you. McCarthy made up his own mind.”
“I don’t believe that. And I don’t appreciate you interfering in my life.”
“I don’t appreciate you interfering with my players,” I retort.
My teammates’ heads swing back and forth from me to Brenna.
“Are we really going to have this argument again?” she asks in a bored tone. Her index finger trails down Coby’s arm.
His eyes glaze over.
Shit. Brenna is not only smoking hot, she’s also magnetic as hell. And her perfect ass is currently pressed up against the crotch of a hockey player who’s full of pent-up aggression and anticipation for tomorrow’s semifinals.
“Did you come here to yell at me, Hottie? Because that’s not going to bring poor, sweet McCarthy back.” I’m goading her. Mostly because it’s fun to see her dark eyes smolder with anger, like two hot coals burning in a fire pit.
“You’re right. I’m not going to get McCarthy back. So I guess it’s time to find a replacement.” Her fingertips reach the hand that Coby placed on her hip. She laces their fingers together, and I frown when I glimpse her thumb rubbing the inside of his palm.
I think he might actually groan. The music muffles the sound, but his tortured expression tells me he’s not unaffected. I glower at him. “Focus, man. She’s just playing a game.”
“It’s not a game. I think your boy here is hot.” She tosses her silky hair over one shoulder and slants her head to meet Coby’s appreciative gaze. “What’s your name?”
“Coby.” Gravel thickens his voice.
Oh fuck. We’re in trouble. He’s looking at her as if she’s already naked. Hell, I think everyone in the bar is.
“I’m Brenna,” she coos. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“So nice,” he echoes, visibly gulping.
Brenna grins at me, and then unlaces their fingers and slides her palm up Coby’s beefy chest. She presses it to the Harvard logo that’s decaled onto his gray sweatshirt, her palm flattening over his left pec. “Your heart’s beating so fast. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s just fine.” He’s completely under her spell. From beneath heavy eyelids, he admires the curves of her body. Then he shifts in his chair, probably because he’s sporting a massive hard-on.
“Focus on me, Chilton,” I order. “Don’t let her lure you to the dark side.”
“Don’t listen to him, Coby. I mean, do you really want Connelly to run your life? He’s such a buzzkill. Who likes a buzzkill, right?” She snuggles closer to him. “So what do you like to do other than play hockey? Do you like to dance?”
“Love it,” he mumbles. His gaze is glued to her chest.
I know for a fact he’s got zero moves. “Coby, don’t fall for this. She’s not interested.”