Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I’m not arguing that. I’d give just about anything for her to press charges on the prick. But it’s her decision, and after the shit he put her through, I’m not going to be the one to take her choices away. Ever. I’ll just have to settle for knowing that his punishment was losing her.” I braced my hands on the counter behind me and stared at the collection of vases.
“Was she wearing your shirt?” Nixon asked, a smirk tilting his lips.
“Fuck off. It’s not like that. She doesn’t have anything and won’t let me buy her anything, but at least she’s not against borrowing things.” The fact that the sight of her with my number on her back got me harder than the granite under my fingers wasn’t anything I was going to admit.
“Right. And just to clarify—you’ve been in love with Teagan Hall for how many years?” He lifted his eyebrows.
“She’s my best friend.”
“Not a bad place to start.”
I shook my head. “Not in the cards. She wants things I can’t give her. Simple as that.”
“What could she possibly want that you can’t provide?” he challenged.
My jaw flexed. “Kids.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “Right. I’m sorry.”
“Moving on. I’m just her soft place to land right now, but it’s going to get really fucking awkward at training camp.” How the hell was I going to ignore Rick? Just thinking about him had my blood pressure rising.
“Yeah, well, he did that to himself. I’ve got your back, and you know Hendrix does, too. Just keep it off the field, and the team will be just fine. Then again, if you want to punch him in the middle of a fucking game, I’m good with that, too.” His face hardened. “Sorry sack of worthless shit.”
“Amen.”
I thought about his words as I lay awake that night, staring at the red numbers of my alarm clock. Maybe Nixon was right, and Rutherford was an option if Teagan wasn’t willing to press charges. But that would be a choice she’d have to make, and until then, I’d have to rein in my temper both on the field and in the locker room.
Not that I couldn’t indulge a fantasy or two about breaking every one of Rick’s fingers.
My door opened, and Teagan slipped into my bedroom. I pulled back the covers as she slid into my bed, whispering an apology.
“Don’t be sorry.” It had been like this every night since she’d come. She’d swear she could make it through the night, but then a nightmare would strike, or insomnia would get the best of her, and she’d crawl in with me.
“Don’t say that yet. I’m freezing.” She rolled and tucked herself against me, pressing her back against my chest and fitting her delicious ass right against my dick.
Even the chill of her skin couldn’t cool the immediate shot of fire through my veins. It singed every nerve ending, leaving me raw and so fucking needy that I had to tilt my hips away from her.
“Mmm. You’re always so warm.” She burrowed deeper, and I somehow managed to keep my rising dick from letting our secret slip. “Night, Roman.”
“Night, Teagan.”
Fuck the field and the locker room.
The battle for my self-control was going to be fought right here in my home, in my bed.
So help me God, I was going to win—or we’d both lose.
4
Teagan
“It’s nearly been three weeks, T,” Roman said as he shook his keys at me. “You have to get out of this house.”
I didn’t budge from the comfy leather chair in his living room—the one I’d quickly claimed for my own since semi-moving in with Roman. Semi-moving in because I still hadn’t retrieved any of my stuff from Rick’s, coward that I was. I’d thought about it plenty of times. Hell, I’d even planned out what I would say and how I wouldn’t dare cry in front of him.
I didn’t even want the stuff he’d bought me—the clothes, jewelry, hell, even the art supplies. Despite how all those things would come in handy right about now, they were tarnished...just another way he’d chosen to control me.
There was only one thing I actually wanted, my shoebox filled with pieces of my childhood. The one I’d never shown him. I risk seeing him again, confronting him, to get that back.
But the twisting, overwhelming ice in my gut always had me squashing those plans and sinking farther and farther into the comfort Roman’s home provided.
Plus, Walt’s massive body kept me warm since I always ran cold. And I couldn’t keep stealing the warmth Roman so freely provided—no matter how damn good it felt.
Shame curled in my gut, twisting and spitting acid. I’d tried and failed every night to sleep on my own, but the nightmares were so vivid, so real, and the panic attacks that followed? Roman had been the only thing to keep my chest from cracking and my mind from shattering completely.