Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Heath looks at me. “How about you, curva? Are you staying in the sun or coming along to observe our challenge?”
The streaming sun feels so nice against my bruised skin on the lounger, and the pool looks so tempting for another dip, but I can’t miss out on the competition.
“Definitely coming. I might be coming at the sight of you, too. It’ll be hotter than the sun out here.”
“Coming over a game of squash?” Josh laughs. “Your pussy never stops aching, does it?”
“No, dumbass. Over a game of you playing squash. There’s quite a difference. And no, my pussy never stops aching, you’re right.” Aching for Josh more than anything. He looks gorgeous, so ripped in his tight black vest top and shorts.
I’ve already been wondering about tonight’s envelope and what the proposal could involve. From being a fisted puppet to a food platter to a vampire chase victim, I really have no idea. Heath could definitely surprise me. He surprises me in every other way. Including with his villa.
It’s like a forbidden kingdom when he opens a side door off from the guest room hallway to reveal a set of slate steps going down.
“Ladies first,” Heath says, and I’m the one who gets the first glimpse.
Fuck, it doesn’t disappoint. Heath’s games room is massive. It must be as big as the whole imprint of the villa up above, but no sunlit windows, just stark bright lights embedded in the ceiling. I scan my eyes over the place. Gym, yes – quite an impressive one. I might even hit the treadmill myself in the days to come. Pool table, check, with a whole load of space around it and tables for drinks. Dartboard. Wow, I’d love a go on that, but I’m so crap at darts that I rarely even hit the board.
And there it is. The squash court. A flash version of the one at our local gym!
The glass front will give me a fantastic view of what’s happening inside, the markings on the floor plainly obvious. There’s a bench, just right for spectators, so I plonk my sore butt down and prepare for the viewing. Hardly Nighttime Whispers, but hey ho, it’ll be an incredible show nonetheless. Heath AND Joshua. Double whammy of awesome.
And they are both mine.
I have to give my mind a kicking. Because despite what the butterflies keep telling me, they aren’t both mine at all. Heath is a client. Nothing more. He’s no more to us than any of our other clients, and never will be. Any of them could offer us a trip overseas, just fine, and we could accept it, just fine. This is fine. Normal.
Except it’s not.
Heath isn’t a regular client… and it’s about much more than Nighttime Whispers.
I see the way they smile at each other as Heath hands Josh a racquet from a locker at the far end of the court. The affectionate cheekiness makes me ache inside. I know Heath is a major celebrity, and I know he’s almost always got his guard up, but with Josh there is no guard there at all. He’s just himself.
And slowly but surely, he’s beginning to be nothing more than himself around me, too.
“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asks as Josh spins his racquet in his hand.
“Ready to kick your ass. You wait.”
“May the best man win.”
Josh laughs. “Don’t put it like that, Heath, or you might have to nail it by default.”
“Don’t be mushy, please. I’ll feel worse for thrashing you.” Heath pats Josh’s ass with his racquet, but the blush of his cheeks shows just how much he’s loving it.
“Go, guys!” I shout as they open the glass door to the court, and Josh tuts at me.
“You’re supposed to be on Team Joshua, Ells. I’m the one who’s your boyfriend, remember? You need a ‘go, Josh’ placard, not a penchant for the great Count, out to kick my ass on the squash court.”
“And the Count is also my client who owns the villa. I’ll be a double cheerleader. Why choose, right? I want you both hot and sweaty and out to win the crown, not just one of you.”
“I’m not just out to win the crown,” Josh says. “I’m going to take it, stick it on my head and wear it all night long.”
“You reckon?” Heath says, as he steps inside. “Let’s see.”
The door closes behind them, and my heart races at the beginning of what’s going to be such an amazing game. Heath Mason against my boyfriend. Jeez. It’s another crazy experience that people would die for.
Oh my fucking God, how the guys go for it on that court – even through the warmup. The barometer of tension is off the scale, way more intense than it was on the loungers earlier. Sweat is dripping within minutes, despite the fact that Josh hasn’t even found his true bearings yet. He’s still finding his feet as the pair of them dash back and forth after the ball, which is unusual. Josh normally takes the lead from the off. For a player who usually practices solo, Heath can clearly knock it out of the park. Which is quite an apt analogy really, considering that Heath usually practices solo on a lot of fronts, not just sports related…