Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
She opened her thighs and drew back the towel, watching his eyes go molten as she sank two fingers inside of herself, pressed deep and lifted herself on top of those digits, grinding her hips, riding them with a whine of his name, her orgasm cresting and delivering.
“Burgess,” she gasped.
“Fucking . . . fuck!” Burgess roared.
His body lurched forward, his hand moving in disjointed jerks, those huge hips shoving her legs wider, so wide, while her bare sex was bathed in his come, rope after rope of wet warmth landing on her there while he panted brokenly into her neck.
“More,” she whispered, licking the side of his face. “Cover me in it.”
“We both want more,” he said, turning his head so he could speak right on top of her mouth. “You ready to admit it’s the same type of more?”
That pressure returned to her chest, the weight of indecision. “Oh. I . . .”
Seconds passed and she couldn’t fill them.
“Uh-huh.” He looked her right in the eye while reaching down to grip her sex in a big hand. “When you’re ready to call me your man, I’m going to spit on this hot little cunt and call it mine before I fuck it. Go ahead. Lie and tell me you don’t want that.”
Yearning like she’d never experienced in her life powered through her system. It was unexpected and consuming, cleanly knocking the wind out of her. The chance that she might go without his full claim caused her stomach to shrink in on itself. “Do it,” she sobbed.
“When you’re mine.” Blue eyes blazed, before he slammed his lids shut. “For now, I want you to agree to come to my game. It’s not a lot to ask. I want to look into the stands and know you’re there because of me.”
“Fine. I’ll go. I’ll go. Just spit on me—”
“Soon.”
Tallulah made a sound of protest as Burgess drew himself up and off her, stumbling back a little while refastening his jeans, his forehead covered in sweat. They retreated to their corners for several minutes to recover from what had started as playful, but turned into something bigger. Something deeper, more permanent.
A pond she didn’t know if she was ready to wade into.
Chapter Eighteen
Oh. The energy in the arena was wild. These people were enthusiastic.
Tallulah had gone into the evening well aware that Bostonians didn’t do sports halfway. After all, her dad was a Red Sox fan. During baseball season, the games had served as background music to homework time. Thus, she knew that every Red Sox game was a matter of life or death. But hockey? She simply hadn’t known. The fans were not there to friggin’ play.
Everyone was wearing team colors. Like . . . everyone.
The dress code hadn’t been optional.
But here she was in jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt, and a coat. And she couldn’t even blend anonymously into the crowd, because the tickets they’d just picked up at the box office were in the front row. She and Lissa were heading there now, weaving in and out of fans holding loaded chili dogs and giant beers.
Nervous somersaults were happening in her tummy. Why?
Maybe because the last time she’d been alone with Burgess, she’d been asking him to spit on her? Her skin flamed just thinking about it. For the entire week that followed, he’d been busy preparing for the season opener, most of his waking hours spent at the arena in team meetings, doing press, and practicing. Tallulah had been splitting her time between caring for Lissa and working on her half of the collaborative assignment with Finn. Every time she’d been in the same room with Burgess, Lissa had been there. Which had done nothing to stifle the charged glances and brushes of his lips across the back of her neck in the kitchen.
This time, her shiver had nothing to do with the temperature.
“Do you think I should go buy a sweatshirt or something?” she leaned down and asked Lissa, who had been a little too quiet on the ride over. Hopefully there wasn’t something new going on with the girls at school. “I feel . . . underdressed or overdressed, I can’t decide.”
Lissa looked down at her phone and scrolled through a feed of colorful pictures, somehow managing to avoid bumping into foot traffic. “Um. No, I think it’s fine.”
“Sure, easy for you to say.” She hip bumped the twelve-year-old. “You’re in a cool Bearcats shirt, complete with claw marks on the sleeve. Did your dad get that for you?”
“Yeah.” Lissa paled, her mouth falling open. “Oh no, I forgot my sweatshirt in the cab.”
“Oh. Shoot. I can call the car service and see if they’re still nearby? Or I can figure out how to pick it up in the morning.”
“We don’t have time—the game is starting and I don’t want to miss them introducing my dad.” Lissa’s shoulders slumped. “I’m going to freeze to death.”