Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
She shifted, wrapping her arms loosely around my waist like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull me in or push me away. “I’ll watch it at home. I get off at six thirty, and I’ll be on the couch with snacks for the kickoff, glued to the television until the last minute.”
I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head. “Home, huh?”
Nodding vigorously, she crossed her heart with a teasing smile. “Yep. That’s the deal.”
After thinking it over, I leaned in again, slow and deliberate, until our mouths were barely a breath apart. “New deal. You watch it at my place so you’re waiting for me when I get home.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with another kiss. Deeper this time. Possessive. My hand slid around to cup the back of her neck, thumb brushing her jaw. Her body was practically vibrating, and when her knees buckled, her fingers curled in my shirt, and I yanked her body into mine to steady her. When I finally pulled away, her pupils were wide and her lips swollen.
“Deal?” I whispered.
She blinked, then nodded slowly. “Deal.”
Smiling, I dropped one last kiss to her mouth, but just as I stepped back, she crossed her arms with a pout and muttered, “You know, you’re not always going to get your way just because you’re ridiculously good at kissing.”
“Wanna bet?” I asked, winking as I smacked her ass and opened the closet door.
She shuffled out, cheeks pink, expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. In the kitchen, I tugged her close once more, brushed my lips over her temple, and told her I’d be back to pick her up when her shift ended. Then I left, already counting the hours.
Sunday came fast, and with it, game day.
Knowing she was watching flipped some kind of switch in me. I played harder. Hit meaner. Moved sharper. Every time I lined up across from a tight end or crashed through the O-line like a battering ram, I thought about her curled up on my couch, wearing one of my shirts, maybe eating the popcorn I’d left for her.
Twenty-one tackles. Fuck yeah! Not bad for a guy running on little sleep and a head full of sex-fueled adrenaline.
Afterward, I ignored the press and rushed into the locker room, showered as fast as possible, threw on fresh clothes, and texted her.
Me
On my way, baby.
Then I booked it across the city.
Rylin was walking into the living room from the kitchen when I opened the door, and she looked up at me with a bright, proud smile.
Without a word, I wrapped her in my arms, lifted her clean off the floor, and carried her to the bedroom. Her laughter was warm against my neck as her legs wrapped around my waist, and the second I laid her down, everything else disappeared. The roar of the crowd, sweat, hits, and bruises—they were nothing compared to the sight of her waiting for me.
And as I kissed my way down her body, every inch of her bare skin filling my senses, I thought, This. Every damn day. For the rest of my life.
The next week passed in a blur of sweet routines and heated glances.
Whenever I wasn’t on the field or buried in tape, I was usually at The Tight Line, finding excuses to help out or just keep her company. Whenever I could, I picked her up from work and took her home with me. I didn’t give her any other option, but she never argued and had even packed a bigger bag the day after the game so she had more stuff at my place. I had plans to slowly bring her shit to my apartment so she was moved in before she even realized it.
Our nights together were my favorite part of the day. Sometimes, it was just cuddling on the couch, talking, or watching a movie. Other nights, we barely made it through the front door before I had her pressed against a wall, gasping my name.
She hadn’t called this a relationship or asked what we were, but she didn’t have to. I could feel it in the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching. How she relaxed when I held her. In the way she fell asleep in my bed like she belonged there.
Meanwhile, I was making plans behind the scenes. Quiet ones. Plans that could help her sister—but I didn’t want to bring it up until I had something solid. If I gave her hope, and it blew up in my face, she’d be crushed. So I kept working it in the background, keeping my cards close until the time was right.
Then the weekend rolled around, and it was time for another away game. I hated leaving her, but I’d convinced her to stay at what I’d already begun to think of as our home while I was gone. Knowing she was keeping our bed warm gave me some comfort.