Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
When he finally falls beside me, he drags me into his arms, clinging like he's never letting me go. His heart pounds against my breasts, his face pressed to my throat.
"Damn," he breathes in my ear, running a hand down my back. "Damn, angel."
"Yeah," I whisper, pretty sure he just summed up exactly how I feel. Damn.
Chapter Seven
Jonas
"Jesus, baby," I breathe, eyeing Jamie through slit lids as she pops a bite of teriyaki chicken into her mouth, moaning. "You keep making those sounds, you aren't going to be finishing your food."
A pretty blush spreads across her cheeks, staining them pink. "I'm starving."
"Good." I grin. "Means I fucked you right."
"Jonas," she groans, hiding her face in her hands.
"It does," I say, shrugging unapologetically. It also means I intend to do it again as soon as humanly possible because there's no fucking way I'm making it through the rest of the night without getting inside of her again. My dick was hard again in about zero point two seconds. Apparently, I need no recovery time with her. All I have to do is look at her, and I'm ready.
She's going to be the center of my world. I already decided that. But I didn't realize just how much the thought would excite me…or just how much it would settle me. For the first time in my life, I feel like I've found my purpose. She's sitting in front of me in my t-shirt, peaking at me from between her fingers.
It's fucking incredible. I'm on top of the world, and nothing will knock me off now. It can't, not when I see the same damn sense of contentment lingering deep in her gray eyes. She might not know it yet, but she's found her place too. It's right here in my bed, in my arms. It's eating Chinese takeout, asking each other every question we've always wanted to ask.
"You've never been linked with anyone," she says right on cue.
"Nope." I smile, amused at the way she dances around the question she wants to ask, tiptoeing around asking me why the fuck I don't sleep around like so many other athletes.
"Oh." She swirls a piece of chicken through her sauce, a furrow between her perfect brows. And then her eyes flash back to mine. "Why not?"
"I grew up on a ranch with parents who have always been madly in love. That was my example of what a relationship is supposed to look like." I drag her feet into my lap, smiling at the sight of her little toes. They're fucking adorable, just like the rest of her. "It wasn't whoring around and breaking hearts." I grimace. "And I'm terrified of Kelsey."
She laughs abruptly.
"I'm serious, angel. Coach lets her torture us if we step out of line. She's fucking excellent at it. You can only clean the goddamn washrooms so many times after a game before you need therapy."
"Washrooms?"
"Bathrooms," I correct.
"I forget you're Canadian sometimes." A sweet smile dances on her lips. "You've got your Americanisms down."
"Shit, I should. I've been here long enough," I mutter. "I moved when I was seventeen. I trained in Los Angeles for a year and then started college the following year. I was drafted two years later."
"And now here you are," she says, throwing one arm out as if to indicate my bedroom. I know that isn't what she means, though. She means here, in Nashville, one game away from the playoffs and another Stanley Cup run. Frankly, she's the best part of the whole experience.
"And now here I am," I agree, setting my takeout box to the side. "And here you are."
"Lucky me," she whispers.
"Nah, baby. I'm the lucky motherfucker in this equation. You done eating?"
"Yes."
I take her dishes from her, setting them on the nightstand with mine. Once they're out of the way, I drag her down beneath me, prowling over her body. One hand curls around her hip as she sinks into the bed, her eyes locked on my face.
"Look at me now," I breathe inches from her lips. "A crazy fucking farm boy in bed with the sexiest reporter in this state."
"Lucky you," she whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"Lucky me," I growl, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. I don't let her up again until I'm buried inside her, claiming another part of her. She leaves claw marks down my back while I do it, shouting my name in a way that makes me feel like a fucking king.
"I should go," she sighs hours later, curled up in my arms.
I tighten them around her, fully intending to keep her prisoner right here, where she belongs. She isn't leaving this bed, not tonight or any other night. Not so long as I have a say in it. I don't give a fuck if this is moving fast. We've been moving at a snail's pace for a year. I'm not waiting anymore.