Go Deep (The New York Nighthawks #4) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
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After flinging my door open again, I raced across the hall and into the safety of the bathroom. Then I made good on my promise to make room for Clay’s stuff by gathering up all of Wrenley’s toiletries and dumping them into a couple of bags I found under the sink. I set them by the door before going through my nighttime routine.

Even though I didn’t expect to see Clay again tonight, I still spent extra time brushing my hair and pulling it into a messy bun at the top of my head. I also took a second swig of my mouthwash, leaving my breath minty fresh. And put on some extra deodorant.

But I made a mistake by not being more cautious once I was done. This time, I didn’t check to see if I could hear any signs that Clay was nearby. When I opened the door, he was coming out of his room, only six feet away from me. The air between us crackled with sexual tension, making me weak in the knees.

Lifting the bags with Wrenley’s toiletries, I pressed them against my chest, using them like a shield as I felt my pebbled nipples pressing against my tank. “I’m done. The bathroom is all yours.”

His lips curved into a sexy grin as his gaze dropped to the bags. “You didn’t have to rush to get that done. I could have used the stuff in my dopp kit, same as I did at the hotel last night.”

“I just wanted to make you feel welcome,” I croaked over the lump in my throat.

His gaze lingered on my lips as he said, “You don’t have to do anything special to make that happen, baby. I have no doubt that this is going to feel like home while I’m here with you.”

Butterflies swirled in my belly at the sincerity in his voice. But with how Clay was connected to Wrenley, perving over him was a bad idea. Especially since we would be living together for the next two weeks. The last thing I needed was to give up my V-card to a professional football player—who could be as much of a player off the field as he was on, for all I knew—and have a potential awkward morning after last for an extra thirteen days.

Letting my hormones take over wasn’t an option, no matter how tempted I was by Clay. “Um…Good. I’m glad.”

I scurried past him and headed to my bedroom. After leaving the bags with Wrenley’s toiletries near my door, I tossed a bunch of my pillows onto the floor and climbed onto my mattress. My ears kept straining for the sounds of Clay doing the same. About fifteen minutes later, I heard the creak of the bed in the other room. Twisting around, I pressed my palm against the wall above my head. Only about five inches of drywall, lumber, and insulation separated me from Clay.

The next two weeks would be much harder than I originally thought. And for a totally different reason than I expected—it would take all of my self-control to keep my hands off him.

7

Clay

At six in the morning, I gave up on sleep. The memories of bumping into Marleigh wearing silky sleep shorts that showed off her rounded ass and a matching tank that didn’t hide her perfect tits were burned into my brain. It was damn difficult to relax when I knew what she was wearing to bed. Sleeping wasn’t easy when dealing with a ten-inch baseball bat between your legs.

I threw the covers off and rolled out of bed, then trudged over to one of my duffels and pulled out a pair of checkered pajama bottoms. They’d been what I wore to bed at Jordan’s, but I went back to sleeping nude in Marleigh’s apartment. I wasn’t gonna lie, part of me hoped I’d have a reason to leave the room naked and give her an eyeful.

However, that didn’t mean I was going to walk around in my birthday suit before I had a chance to make sure it wouldn’t freak my girl out. Her reaction last night had been both amusing and so fucking adorable. She’d been aroused and embarrassed at the same time. Which had turned her skin redder than mine when I forgot to put on sunscreen.

My stomach growled, and I grabbed a protein bar from one of my boxes to hold me over until the groceries I ordered at five thirty this morning arrived and I could make breakfast. I wandered out to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk. Just as I was putting the empty glass in the dishwasher—something a good houseguest would do, so I ignored the impulse to leave it in the sink—my phone buzzed with a text informing me that my delivery was outside the door.


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