Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
But as the clock ticked closer to midnight, sleep became impossible. I tossed and turned, flopped from side to back to stomach, and couldn’t get my eyes to stay shut. After staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever, I gave up and made a command decision.
There was only one thing that would settle me, so I got dressed, grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge and was out the door.
Now, sitting here in the icy stillness of North’s neighborhood, I wonder what the hell I’m even doing. I know he went to Foster and Mazzy’s New Year’s Eve party and for all I know, he’s still there. It’s a night built for partying after all. It’s silly of me to assume he’d leave shortly after the clock struck midnight. There would be no reason for him to rush home, as I certainly didn’t tell him I was coming over.
My toes are numb, my nose is red, and I’m practically vibrating with nerves as I consider that maybe I shouldn’t be here. What if North got wild and crazy tonight? What if North isn’t alone when he comes home? The thought of a woman in his truck when he pulls in that driveway churns my stomach.
Worse yet… what if he doesn’t come home at all? That most likely means he met someone and hooked up.
And here I am, sitting like a loser in the cold, hoping to make some sort of connection with him tonight.
I’m not supposed to care about things like this. Casual is the rule we agreed upon. No strings, no commitments, no expectations. But the idea of him with another woman twists something ugly and possessive inside me.
I’d kill him.
Okay, not kill him. But I’d definitely… what? Storm off in a dramatic huff? Throw the champagne at his truck?
“Damn it,” I grumble in frustration at myself. Why am I even giving brain power to this notion?
North isn’t that type of guy. If he’s sleeping with me, he’s only sleeping with me. While I might keep my walls up and don’t necessarily trust him as a man, I do trust in his loyalty. I’ve seen it over and over again.
The way he defended Penn when what he did was indefensible.
The way he’s standing so staunchly by Rafferty throughout this mess with Tansy.
A mess, by the way, that hopefully has some resolution on the horizon. This morning, me, Rafferty and Tempe talked about his best course of action against these false doping allegations. I wanted to play it safe, hunker down and wait for the Titans to ferret out the truth. Tempe wanted to go in guns blazing. She had this notion that Raff should immediately go to Brienne Norcross and confess the entire sordid situation—from sleeping with her cousin to avoiding her stalking, to the fake relationship turned real.
While Rafferty loves me with his whole heart and listened to my concerns, he decided to put his trust in Tempe, and they went off to talk to Brienne. I was nervous but it was tempered somewhat by watching Rafferty and Tempe confess their love to each other.
Right there in his kitchen, right in front of me.
It was beautiful and sweet and apparently the miracle of true love was validated.
Which makes me think of North. I’ve seen enough to know that he’s an anomaly when it comes to men in general. His kindness is too genuine, his devotion to Rafferty and his teammates too concrete, and his honesty too purposeful. He’s never given me a single reason to doubt him, and even as I sit here stewing in irrational jealousy, I know he wouldn’t betray the fragile thing we’ve built.
Which is a monogamous, sex-only relationship, I remind myself.
Headlights sweep across the driveway, and my heart leaps into my throat. I rise to my feet as North’s truck pulls in, the engine cutting off. When he cracks the driver’s door, the interior light illuminates him enough for me to note the shock on his face to see me standing there. The corners of his mouth lift in a smirk as his boots hit the ground. He looks so fucking hot wearing a tailored peacoat over dark jeans and a fitted sweater, and he looks every bit the man who doesn’t belong to a single person, least of all me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, striding my way.
I bend over, pluck the champagne from the snow and hold it up. “Wanted to ring in the new year with you.”
He doesn’t hesitate, crossing the snow-covered yard in a few long strides. Before I can say anything else, his hands, warmed by the interior of his truck, are on my cheeks and his lips press against mine in a kiss so grounding it feels like I’m being pulled out of orbit.
When he leans back, his eyes are soft, crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad you came. Party was so boring without you.”