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)
He’d told me at the launch party that Caley United were doing well in the premiership. Their hope, of course, was to win, but the second goal was to avoid relegation. Relegation would see them drop out of the Pro League to the division below.
It turned out there was nothing to worry about. Callan dominated the game, and I had to wonder if maybe sex was a shot of caffeine for him. He gave no sign of lack of sleep, and if anything, he was extremely focused and determined. He was a captain out there, rallying his troops. Watching him encourage them, motivate them, power down the pitch, keeping control of the ball at such speed, I’d gotten more than a bit turned on. The crowd shouted a chant about him being faster than the Flash, and pride hit me.
I didn’t know if I was allowed to be proud of him, but I couldn’t help but be in awe.
And wish that he was coming directly home from the game to me.
But he wasn’t.
That wasn’t what we were.
And he hadn’t texted me.
So I finished up what work I could and went to my parents’ for Sunday dinner.
Callan was waiting for me when I came home, and without a word stalked across the hallway and pulled me against him for a hungry kiss.
“We won,” he growled as he finally let me up for air.
I already knew but didn’t feel it was my place to text to congratulate him. Moreover, I didn’t want him thinking I watched the game because I was pining for him. “Congrats.”
He kissed me again and then swooped me up into his arms. I let out a laugh as I grabbed onto him. I wasn’t exactly tiny. “What are you doing?”
“I want to celebrate inside you.”
Chuckling, I caressed the nape of his neck. “We can do that, but you’ll have to put me down so I can let us into my flat.”
“Give me your keys.”
Deciding not to argue, I gave him my keys and watched as he somehow got the door open with me in his arms. He marched down the hallway to my bedroom and threw me on the bed again.
“You need to stop doing that!”
His answer was to come down on top of me and kiss me until I couldn’t think or speak, and that was me for the rest of the night. Lost in wild abandon in Callan Keen’s arms.
And just like the night before, everything else, all my worries, melted away.
It was bloody magnificent.
A few days later, I stood on the esplanade of Edinburgh Castle with Mhairi, the Social Queens content creator and photographer, my mum, and her agent and editor who’d flown up from London. They were in town for other business stuff and were meeting with Mum about her upcoming book release, so I decided to tag along for the social media promo I was shooting for the book.
We were doing it a wee bit earlier than we’d usually plan since Mum and Dad were leaving for Asia tomorrow for a three-week trip. They were visiting Japan, Singapore, Vietnam, and Thailand.
Mum hated getting her photo taken, but she was cool to Mhairi as she took snaps of Mum solo with the castle in the background and then with the city behind her. We switched it up and took some shots of her with the book too.
The place was packed because it was August, but we had permission to be on the premises, so someone from the castle served as our rep and directed tourists away from our small group.
“So …,” Mhairi said quietly as she took a few more shots of Mum. “We haven’t had a chance to talk since the newspaper thing. What’s going on there?”
It felt like the millionth time someone had asked me that question.
Monday morning, Callan and I had awoken from another sexathon to texts and calls from family, friends, and Callan’s publicist. The Scottish Star had published photographs of me and Callan at the Aura Beauty party. One was a pretty good photo of us smiling, Callan’s arm relaxed around my waist. We looked good together. The other photo was one we were unaware of. We were sitting at the table, Callan’s head bent toward me as he whispered in my ear. It was purely innocent, but my bare leg was on view and his hand was on my knee.
The headline read KEEN BAGS A POSH WAG.
WAG stood for Wives and Girlfriends of professional athletes. It wasn’t the most progressive title.
Even though the article divulged we’d stated we hadn’t confirmed we were dating, the journalist insinuated from our body language that we were. They, of course, mentioned my name and my semi famous parents. The only positive thing was the article mentioned Social Queens, and we’d gained a bunch of new followers. I could only hope it translated to new clients too.