Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
He swallows, nodding, seeming to take that in. When he speaks, his voice is lower—more vulnerable than I’ve heard him before. “I have to be…around you.”
My senses go on high alert. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I absolutely do.”
“Why?” I push, feeling a little high on the start of his confession.
He stares at my lips, then glances at the party behind us. “Because of this,” he says, gesturing privately from him to me. The air between us crackles. Atoms and ions spin faster. Everything feels charged and electric at his acknowledgement of this chemistry.
I’d begun to think only I still felt the spark. Even though it’s risky, even though it’s foolish to tango like this, I inch a little closer. “You feel it?”
His eyes float closed briefly, and when he opens them, they’re wide and bright. He lets each word breathe when he says, “Every second with you.” Then he glances toward the bar. “Let me get you a refill.”
That’s the end of that conversation.
I suppose that’s for the best. I came here tonight for intel, and I got it. That has to be good enough for me.
When he returns with the drink, I thank him, then we shoot the breeze about Los Angeles for a bit until his phone rings.
One look at the screen, and Maddox says, “Potential client. Give me a couple minutes, okay?”
“Go be agent-y,” I say, hoping I sound genuine. I do understand he’s a busy man.
He gives me a sympathetic look. “I’ll be fast.”
“Maddox, I like that you’re a popular agent. Take all the time,” I say.
With a grateful smile, he squeezes my shoulder, then walks away, saying, “Hey, Braxton.”
I survey the scene. The party’s fading a little. Gunnar’s still busy with his buddy. Normally, I’d circulate and make new friends. Chat with anyone. But Maddox will be back soon.
Yawning, I head to the far corner of the patio. That was a helluva game tonight. My muscles are tired, and my body weighs a ton. Maybe I’ll just stretch out on a lounge chair and text my brother. I duck into the tented cabana away from the party, flop down and open my text app. Before I can even start a message, though, I’m yawning again, stretching out under the stars, and counting sheep.
5
PAINT BY NUMBERS
Maddox
An hour later, Zane’s teammate, Gunnar, has taken off to hit the hay. Only stragglers remain, and my client sleeps soundly on a lounge chair, flat on his back, arms crossed. The flaps on the cabana blow gently in the breeze.
I finished my call with Braxton a while ago and found Zane right away, but I didn’t have the heart to wake him. When a man crashes into a deep sleep at a party, he usually needs his shut-eye. I’ve been reading in the chair next to his. But it’s getting late, so I put my phone away.
His light brown hair catches the moonlight, which leaves silver streaks across the strands. His lips flutter as if he’s dreaming.
It’s a sin to wake him up, but it’s well after midnight, and he has a game tomorrow. I move to sit on the edge of his chair next to him, but he doesn’t move.
Gently, I shake his shoulder.
He sighs and rolls his head to the left side, still breathing slow and steady.
I try again, shaking a little harder. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” I whisper.
Zane stirs, then stretches, inhaling a big breath of air. But he falls back asleep.
I laugh. He’s a tough one to wake. Curling a hand more tightly around his shoulder, I rustle him harder. “Zane,” I whisper.
He flinches and sits bolt upright. I jerk up too, and he grabs my shoulders. His eyes fly open, and his face is inches from mine. He blinks as if orienting himself but doesn’t let go of me.
“I fell asleep,” he murmurs, stating the obvious.
“Yeah, you did.”
“You stayed with me.” He’s still sleepy, his voice gravelly and all sexy…and I am so fucked.
“Of course I did,” I say.
I figured out within a minute of meeting Zane that he was the kind of man I wanted to go home with, and that’s rare for me—to know that, to see that, and to desire that so quickly. In the last few days, I’ve seen a little of his heart, some of his need. The more I learn, the more I like, and the harder it becomes to fight my desires.
Especially when he’s touching me.
Slowly, Zane’s gaze drifts down to his hands, curled tight around my shoulders. I want him to grab me with those big hands. Then throw me down on the bed. Pin me under him. Take me.
It’s fucking embarrassing how deep this desire tunnels into me, how far it claws through my chest. The last man I was with didn’t understand what I craved or why I craved it. Most men don’t know what to make of the sex I want, the intimacy I need. That’s why I hardly ever do hookups. I need to trust the guy I’m with, which rarely comes with a guy I meet on an app or for a one-night stand.