Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
By the time I returned to Edinburgh, I was running late for our meeting, which I guessed wouldn’t go over well with Beth. She seemed to always have something to do or somewhere to be. It surprised me that she wasn’t waiting outside her flat door as I climbed the stairwell.
Then I heard an echoey, “I’m up here.”
Tilting my head back, I found Beth leaning over the railing from my floor, looking down at me.
“You’re late.”
“Train was late.” I’d taken public transport because, despite the fact the Edinburgh Fringe was hosted throughout the entire month of August, it was still quicker than attempting to drive from Edinburgh to Glasgow in rush-hour traffic.
“How did your interview go?” Beth asked as I climbed the last steps.
She stood waiting for me, wearing the same flowery, strappy summer dress she’d worn that morning she befriended the brunette I’d slept with.
“It was fine.” I shrugged, taking out my keys.
Beth rolled her eyes and turned, heading toward my flat door.
My eyes betrayed me, traveling down her long legs. She had great fucking legs. I suddenly imagined them wrapped around my back as I thrust into her, her features straining with pleasure as I watched her take me.
All my blood rushed south.
Damn it.
The gaffer in the shower. The gaffer in the shower.
That helped a bit.
Don’t look at her legs. Don’t look at her, full stop.
“How is the … Scottish Series Cup thingie going?” Beth asked politely.
My lips twitched as I let us into my flat. It was a miracle I’d managed to get her to come to a few of my games back in high school. “You mean the Scottish Professional League? The Scottish Series Cup Thingie is a different tournament, and we don’t play in that again until the quarter finals at the end of September.”
“Oh.” Beth followed me inside, closing the door behind us. “I didn’t realize there was more than one tournament.”
It seemed incredible to me that anyone could be ignorant to how football worked because it was my whole life, but I also enjoyed explaining it. “There are three cup tournaments, more if you count junior and amateur. Then you’ve got the divisions within that. There’s the Scottish Professional Football League”—I gestured to myself—“then the Champion Title, Division One, and Division Two. Teams are constantly trying to move up through those three divisions so they can compete in the Professional League.”
“So, you’re telling me, all I have to do to get you to say more than one sentence is ask you to explain Scottish football?”
Amusement flickered through me at her sarcasm, but I ignored the comment. “Want a drink? Coffee?”
“Oh my God, yes, please.” Beth crossed the room into my living space. She glanced down at the infamous sofa everyone hated. “I have to try it and see what all the fuss is about.” She moved to sit but then hesitated. She shot me a look. “You haven’t had sex on here, have you?”
I snorted. “I thought you said I’d never get laid with a sofa like that?”
“Well, that was until I saw the women coming out of your flat.”
“The only sex that’s been had on that sofa was with my right hand.”
Beth gaped at me. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
I turned to make her coffee. “Of course, I’m joking. That so-called ugly sofa cost a fucking fortune. Milk? Sugar?”
“Both, please. And it’s not so-called. There is no opinion here, Captain. The sofa is ugly.”
A glance over my shoulder told me Beth had sat down on the couch. Her dress camouflaged her against it. Turning away with a smirk, I made us both a coffee with my fancy, expensive Italian coffee maker.
My guest didn’t say another word until I approached her with a cup. “That smells like heaven.”
“It is,” I promised her, reluctantly taking a seat on an armchair opposite my favorite sofa.
I watched as she sipped at the hot drink, her eyelashes fluttering as she licked foam off her lips. Beth had naturally full lips, the kind women I’d previously slept with paid good money for. I couldn’t remember how any of theirs felt, but I could still remember how soft Beth’s lips had felt against mine.
When she moaned, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“This is amazing coffee.”
I nodded, swallowing hard as she took a sip and followed it with another moan.
Bloody hell, was she trying to kill me?
“So … what do you think of the sofa?” I tried to distract her from making sexy sounds.
Beth grinned, a flash of a mischievous, glamorous smile that made my heart pound faster. “You’re right. It’s very comfortable.”
“Told you.”
She shook her head. “It’s still the ugliest sofa ever.”
“Says the woman whose dress matches it.”
Beth glanced down at herself and frowned. “This fabric looks better on me.”
Since it was true, I didn’t argue. “Right. So … about this ultimatum …”