Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“No. Fuck no,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Don’t shut me out. Not now.”
“I have to,” I whispered.
“No, you don’t.” He ran his fingers through my tangled hair and searched my eyes. “How can you shut me out after this?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “That’s why this shouldn’t have happened to begin with.”
“Explain.” He sat up suddenly. His legs were too long. They took up most of my queen-sized bed.
“I can’t.” I sat up, crossing my legs between his. “I’ll tell you after your last game. I swear I would tell you if I didn’t think it was dangerous and could cause some serious shit, but I can’t risk it. You can’t risk it.”
“Okay. After my last game, then. “He stared at me for a long moment. “When are you leaving?”
“Two days after your game.”
“What will you do now with your fancy biology degree?”
“I applied to three medical programs to start working in sports medicine. They’ve all accepted me, but I haven’t picked one yet.” I bit the tip of my thumb. His eyes darkened, so I dropped my hand.
“Where will you be in the meantime?”
“I’m going to California with Marissa for a week.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Where in California?”
“All over. We’ll start in San Diego and make our way up,” I said. He looked at me for a long time, and I could tell he wanted to say something but was holding back. I scooted forward, getting closer to him. “What?”
“Nothing.” He sighed heavily. “The timing of the universe sucks sometimes.”
“Why? You want to go to Cali with me?” I asked.
“Keep smiling at me like that, and I just might say fuck the draft and follow you around instead.”
I laughed. “You would never.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I would never let you do that.”
“I know.” He smiled, but it was gone in an instant. “I want to ask you something.”
“Okay.” I braced myself.
“Why don’t you go pro?”
“I can’t,” I said instantly and looked at the wall I had dedicated to soccer.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Is there a difference?”
“You were good,” he said, pride in his voice.
I raised an eyebrow. “I was better than good.”
“I love it when you get cocky.” He growled as he kissed me.
“You would love that.” I laughed against his mouth and pulled away. He looked at me for the longest moment, so I frowned. “What?”
“When you laugh, when you smile. . .It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “With the exception of you coming on my cock, of course.”
I slapped his chest, rolled my eyes, and grew serious again. “To answer your question, I tried to keep going, but my heart was no longer in it.”
He held my chin. “Because of the accident?”
My eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
“Google.”
“You Googled me?”
“Yeah. You didn’t Google me?” He raised an eyebrow.
My lips pursed. “Yeah, but only to confirm you were on the hockey team and weren’t just making it up to stand against that wall.”
“You didn’t believe me?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “That was a blow to my ego, you know.”
“I figured,” I said. “You couldn’t have been that hurt. You ended up coming home with my roommate that night.”
“I only came home with Marissa because I knew she was your roommate.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I wanted to see where you lived,” he said. I stared at him and waited for him to tell me he was kidding. He didn’t. “I wanted to know more about you.”
“So you thought, ‘Let me find out more about her by fucking her roommate’?”
“No.” He shot me a droll look. “I was never going to do anything with Marissa. Nothing happened between us.”
“I know,” I said. “But you let a girl sit on your lap at a party the following night.”
His lips spread into a slow smile. “You sure you weren’t interested in me, Lyla James?”
Ugh. I pressed my lips together and stared at his chest. I was grateful not to discuss the accident or soccer, but talking about this while I looked at his perfect body wasn’t any easier. No wonder every woman wanted to fuck him. The thought instantly soured my mood. Oh my God. Why was I doing this to myself? And why did I even care? I was being ridiculous.
“What are you thinking about?” He tilted my chin up.
I shook my head, still staring at his chest.
“Lyla.”
My eyes snapped to his. “I’m not thinking about anything.”
“You may not want to admit that you were curious about me from the beginning, but I was really fucking curious about you, and I watched you closely and often,” he said, searching my eyes. “I know every scowl, every frown, every hidden smile. I even know the ones you’ve never graced me with.”
“No, you don’t.” I scowled.
“I know your tells, Lyla James. Every single one of them.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, tilting my head a little more, so we were just a breath apart. “Tell me what’s wrong.”