Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
He presses his lips into a thin, tight line until they turn bloodless. Emotion sparks in his eyes.
When Ryder fails to respond, I give him another poke for good measure before swinging around and stalking to the back door. As I yank it open and step over the threshold, his deep voice halts me in my tracks.
“Your brother doesn’t want you messing around with his teammates.”
My spine stiffens in response as I escape into the house, slamming the door shut with such force that it rattles on its hinges. I glare through the dirty glass pane and twist the lock.
Now that I’m in the house, music and voices vibrate inside my head. I shove my way through the sea of students in search of Carina. On the way past the makeshift bar, I grab a red Solo cup full of beer.
I’m still seething that Ryder had the audacity to say that to me. As if I’d ever mess around with any of my brother’s teammates. That’s not a position I’d want to put Maverick in. And I sure as shit don’t need a manwhore like Ryder McAdams to tell me that.
I bring the rim to my lips and suck down the contents in one thirsty gulp before slamming it on the bar and wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.
Ryder McAdams can go screw himself.
CHAPTER 8
RYDER
Well…that conversation certainly didn’t go as planned.
For a long moment, I stare at the last place I’d seen Juliette before she slipped inside the house and slammed the door. I’m pretty sure she locked the damn thing. A potent concoction of anger and lust swirls through me.
I’ve always been so careful to shove my feelings for her down until they were buried so deep, I could almost forget they existed. That’s no longer possible. It feels like everywhere I go, there she is. Whether it’s at her apartment, on campus, or at a party.
I drag a frustrated hand through my hair and tip my head back to stare at the stars that litter the dark night sky.
Nothing in my life is easy anymore.
Had I been smart, I would have allowed Larsa to lead me up the staircase to my bedroom. At this very moment, I could be buried balls deep in her soft pussy. Instead, I’m standing in the cold, more than likely locked out of my own damn house.
How’s that for a kick in the ass?
And Juliette is inside, doing god knows what.
If anything, I’ve only made the situation worse.
For a handful of seconds, I consider heading back inside to find Larsa. If anyone can erase the last twenty minutes from my brain, it’s her. The things she can do with her mouth are borderline criminal.
And more than likely, illegal in half a dozen states.
Instead of the blonde beauty popping into my brain, an image of Juliette does. The sexy black sweater had clung to every single curve while the short red skirt barely skimmed her thighs. The tall, black boots had given her just a bit of extra height, making her legs look even longer. The way her dark hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves—waves I’d wanted to bury my fingers in before tipping her head back until she was forced to meet my gaze while I took her mouth—is enough to set my blood on fire. It had taken every ounce of self-restraint not to lay my hands on her.
So…there’s no way I can hook up with another girl while Juliette is walking around our house looking like sex on a stick.
I don’t even bother to check the back door. Instead, I stalk around the side of the house. As soon as I hit the front lawn, I find a dozen or so people milling around, finishing off their drinks.
What the hell?
I glare before grabbing their cups and dumping the beer onto the lawn.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with that!” a drunk guy grumbles.
“What did you do that for?” a girl protests, slurring her words.
It only takes one dark look aimed in their direction for their complaints to die away.
One of the freshman players is supposed to be manning the door at all times. No one leaves the house with open containers.
Are these asshats trying to get us busted?
Like we need that.
As I stomp up the porch stairs, a female calls out my name. That alone isn’t enough to make me turn, except I recognize this particular voice.
“Ryder!”
I swing around and find my cousin, Brooke, with a wide smile on her face. Her boyfriend, Crosby Rhodes, is steadfast at her side. He’s a football player at Western.
As soon as I’m within striking distance, Brooke throws her arms around my neck before squeezing me tight. With her held against me, I meet Crosby’s eyes over her shoulder. It wasn’t so long ago that I gave him a shiner and busted his lip open for breaking her heart.