Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“So…” I sat up, lowering my feet back to the ground. “Still friends?”
His head bounced up and down once. He laid his hand out on the table for me, palm up.
“And we have sex when we see each other?”
He nodded again. “And neither of us does that with anyone else. It has to go both ways. I’m all about female sexual equality, so I know you ladies get as horny as we do.” He wiggled his fingers at me. “Deal?”
I started to reach for his hand, but paused. “Should we be ironing out how often we see each other? How often we talk to each other?”
He stood abruptly. “Shake my damn hand, woman. Friends is friends. We talk as much as we can, and we see each other as much as we can.”
“Deal.” I reached over and slapped his hand.
“Oh no!” He caught my hand, reaching out and lifting me clear of the table and into his arms.
It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He made me feel like I could soar, but he could drop me so fast.
“Christ, you make me work to get in your pants.” But he was grinning as his mouth found mine. He took me back to the bedroom, and once we got there, he laid me down on the bed, holding himself above me. “You have to promise I can fly you out, because I’m going to be traveling a lot. During season, it’s nuts. I won’t get here that often.”
I framed his face. “You’re so cute, acting like I’m not a basketball groupie.”
A twisted laugh ripped from him, but his eyes were back to darkening. “You are definitely not a groupie.” His hand moved down my side, slipping under my shirt and smoothing up to cup my breast. His thumb rubbed over my nipple. “I know you like to joke about that stuff, but do me a favor? Stop with the bad talk. Stop calling yourself a stalker, groupie, and whatever else you think is funny but is just a put-down. Only I can use those as endearments. Got it?”
I stilled, swallowing. He watched me, affection warming his eyes, but there was more—an emotion that had my pulse spiking because I didn’t want to name it, or feel it, but it was there.
As I whispered a yes, his mouth found mine.
I closed my eyes, giving myself over to him, and I tried to forget what I’d seen. Because if I didn’t, I couldn’t stay with him. I’d just ruin everything.
Instead of thinking, I wound my arms around his neck. I opened my legs as he settled over me, and I pushed down his shorts.
Condom on, he slid inside me moments later.
I forgot everything else.
Reese’s alarm went off at four, and just as he rolled out of bed, I caught his arm.
“Hey, go back to sleep.”
“No.” My eyelids couldn’t open. I was seriously tired, but I was determined. “Cancel your driver. I’ll take you to the airport.”
“No. Go to sleep. I’ll just slip out.” He bent down, pressing a kiss to the side of my mouth. “For real. It’s ungodly to be up at this hour. Rest till your friends get here.”
Did he not… He didn’t. It was official. I needed to introduce myself again.
I growled, lightly shoved his head away, and swung my feet down. I was at least sitting now, but yeah—eyes still not open. Around a yawn, I tried to be fiercer. “I said I’d drive you. Airporaaaaah,” I yawned, “is five minutes from here.” Okay. I just needed to rub my eyes a little, and then they’d open.
He chuckled, bending close again. He placed another soft kiss on my forehead before he pushed his finger there, easing me back down. “Go to bed, psycho. I have a driver coming.”
“No.”
I was determined.
Pride. Stubbornness. All of my superhero qualities.
There. I got my eyes open, and whoa—it was so dark out. He was right. No one should be up at this time, but he was, so I was. He still wavered over me. I pushed him aside and scooted to the bathroom first.
“Are you for real?” His exasperation was evident.
“Yes,” I yelled over, peeing. A quick wash. Teeth. I splashed my face a little, then I opened the door and waved him in. “Go. Get ready. I’ll put on coffee. You canceled your driver, right?”
He growled as he grabbed for his phone.
I pulled on clothes. I wasn’t even looking, but it might not have been a coincidence when I grabbed one of his sweatshirts. I had a problem, a sweatshirt problem. Pretty sure I could’ve started a support group, because I know I wasn’t alone.
Slipping some shoes on, I got the coffee going, and had a cup ready for him when he was done. Keys. Phone. Purse. I was set. Black leggings on, his sweatshirt over, and my hair up in a messy bun, I was sure I was the epitome of beauty. Not. I didn’t care. The coffee gave me points.