Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I reach the door and take a deep breath before quietly pushing it open. The garage is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside filtering through the window. York’s already there, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his face partially shadowed. The sight of him, standing there waiting for me, sends a surge of heat through me.
“Hey,” I whisper, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind me.
York looks up, his blue eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. The tension between us is thick, a mix of anticipation and something deeper that we’ve both been dancing around for too long.
I bite my lip, feeling a rush of nerves. “So… what’s this about?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, though I already have a feeling it’s something big.
He takes a step toward me, his eyes soft but serious. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and full of meaning.
I nod, swallowing hard. We definitely do.
But before any words come out, he rushes toward me, gathering me in his arms and crashing his lips to mine. I nearly cry out as our lips fuse together. God, I love this man.
I hate that I do. I shouldn’t, but I do.
His hands roam all over my body, like he can’t get enough of me. I grip him tightly, not wanting to let him go, because this kiss almost feels like goodbye.
Please don’t let this end.
Not yet.
We keep kissing as his hands tug my pajama pants down my legs.
“I need inside you like I need my next breath. I can’t take it anymore.”
I want to comply, but there’s this nagging feeling pressing at the corners of my mind. It feels like this is all ending, not beginning. Yet, I keep holding onto him, not wanting him to ever leave me. Wanting this feeling to never end.
I nod, giving him my permission. Giving him everything. He owns it.
He moves us together, in unison, to the table we’ve used a few times over the past week. He leans me against it, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
I want this.
He fists his dick in his hands, a gleam in his eyes as he gazes into mine. “Noelle, you deserve so much better.”
What could be better than him?
I don’t answer, but simply close my eyes as he pushes inside me. He fills me up, and I moan out a soft moan, making sure not to be too loud. I run my fingers through his hair, wanting him closer.
He pulls all the way out of me, and flips me over. He slams into me from behind and I let out the tiniest of yelps. I was not expecting that. I love this. I love him.
His fingers sink into the flesh of my ass as he pounds away inside me, his other hand reaching around to make contact with my clit. He tugs and pulls on it, making my body nearly crumble like a gingerbread cookie.
He keeps pumping his dick into me, the sounds of our lovemaking filling the garage. I don’t care if we’re being noisy. I don’t care about anything right now.
Only him.
“Noelle, I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers into the night.
I want to tell him all the things. That I can’t get enough of him either, but instead I remain silent, not wanting to ruin the moment with words. Words that are too heavy right now to utter.
I want to shout out that I love him.
Because I do.
He keeps playing with my body, working me over again and again. My tummy tightens, my orgasm looming. I know it’s here.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my release rips right through me like a runaway sleigh barreling down a snowy hill. I can barely hold on, and York grabs me by the throat, bringing me back so our mouths can meet together in an insatiable kiss.
God, the things this man does to me should be criminal.
He finishes off a few seconds after my body starts to calm, and after we’re done we’re both breathing heavily.
I turn to face him, pulling my panties and pajama pants up my legs. “Good talk,” I say with a small laugh.
York offers me a dazzling smile, and my heart skips a beat. “Noelle, I don’t know where to start.”
“Maybe at the beginning?” I ask, getting myself put back together.
He rests his hands on my hips, leaning his forehead against mine. “I hate this life for you. You deserve so much better.”
“Maybe I should be the one to decide, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head slightly. “The paparazzi will never stop.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “I don’t care. Let them take pictures. All I care about is being with you.”
He presses his lips to mine in a quick, soft kiss, one that feels more like a promise than anything else. "I know," he whispers, his voice full of something raw and conflicted. "I want to be with you too, but I hate the thought of you being the one who suffers because of it. I’ve seen what the paparazzi can do. How relentless they are. I’ve watched it with the other players—it’s brutal. That’s why so many of them stay single."