Page 119 of High Stick Heartthrob


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I rolled my eyes and fake laughed.

I took a sip of my water from the wineglass.

Great - now I had to pee.

Atlas showedup while I sat in the waiting room.

The gigantic, towering man catching the attention of everyone there.

The receptionists behind the desk all stood up.

Two looking a little worried.

The other three instantly dreamy. Tilting their heads to the side, a second away from drooling.

There were three other women waiting.

All of them alone.

All three pregnant.

Each woman touched their pregnant bellies and stared at Atlas.

I never saw so many horny women in my entire life.

I wished I had a spray bottle of water to go one by one and calm them down with a spray to the face.

Atlas walked right toward me.

I stared up at him.

My lasting image of him was either him thrusting into me with perfect force as he came. Or maybe it was him holding me all night -cuddling. Or maybe it was the morning after when he made breakfast. Shirtless.

Hannah was right.

This wholewaiting a monththing felt stupid.

“Hey, love,” he said.

“Atlas,” I said.

I noticed something about his left eye.

“Are those stitches, Atlas?”

“Yes, they are,” he said.

“What… how?”

“Hockey,” he said. “I assume this means you don’t watch the games. We’re on a four game winning streak. Longest in five years. I had a little dust up two nights ago.”

“What does that mean?”

“A fight, love. A good one too. Biggest guy in the league. Six-nine, long reach.”

“Looks like he got you pretty good.”

“It was the ice that did it,” Atlas grinned. “I clocked him in his jaw so hard he went down and pulled me with him. I was at a bad angle and hit my face off the ice. The stitches were easy to get. But they kept me out just in case of a concussion. Which I don’t have. I’m fine.”

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