Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I’m grunting as sparks burst before my eyes. Then punching my hips and spilling all over my hand and her expensive panties.
It’s so wrong.
I can’t even catch my breath for a long time.
After, my eyes float open finally, and I reconnect to the earth. I swing my gaze down to my hand. I’ve ruined the lace. But I smirk at the mess.
Worth it. Fucking worth it.
Then, I blink. “The fuck?”
Athena’s perched on the coffee table across from me, staring sharply with unblinking green eyes.
“Don’t judge me,” I mutter.
She turns the other way, lifting a haughty, furry chin.
“You saw nothing,” I tell her.
She twitches her tail more. Judging me. Fucking judging me.
But then again, I’m sitting on my couch with my pants down, my dick out, holding a pair of the world’s sexiest panties covered in my come.
I’d judge me too.
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve showered and cleaned up. After I hang up the fluffy bath towel next to the rainfall shower, I pad across the soft carpet in my bedroom suite and enter the walk-in closet. I grab a pair of black boxer briefs from a drawer and pull them on, then head to bed. I sink down on the soft gray duvet on the king-size bed.
I yawn, relaxed at last. But even though we have a game tomorrow, it’s not bedtime yet.
Settling onto the pillows, I grab my phone, the lights of the city flickering from beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Time for some detective work. There’s no brand name on the tag. Just a size. No way am I going to ask Everly what brand that was. Instead, I google aqua sheer panties covered in roses and visit seven different lingerie shops online before I find one that looks right.
“Bingo,” I say. Then I place an order for rush delivery tomorrow afternoon.
I close the browser and hop over to my text messages, opening the thread with Everly. I start to tap out a message, letting her know to be on the lookout for a package.
But then, screw it. I’d rather surprise her.
I set my phone down, blow out a very satisfied sigh, and park my hands behind my head. I’m sated.
Well, for now.
There’s a soft sound, and I turn to the right. A quiet furball slinks across the bed, and curls up next to my neck. In seconds, she’s purring and I’m forgiven.
In the morning, I’m pouring a cup of coffee in the kitchen while texting with my dad about bagels. He’s started sending me daily pics of them, and I don’t know why but I fucking love pics of bagels from my parents. Looks delish, I respond to today’s so-called Bagel of the Day, when a new text blinks up at me from my phone. A damning text.
Everly: You took my panties.
I down some coffee, letting it wake me up before I dictate a reply.
Max: Is there a question in there?
Everly: I can’t believe you took my panties.
Max: That’s still not a question.
Everly: Why did you take my panties?
Well, that answer is easy, so I give it to her.
Max: Because I wanted them.
“What is that?” Asher asks as he slides into the passenger seat of my car on the way to morning skate.
“What is what?”
He tips his chin toward me, peering at…my face. “Is that…a smile you’re wearing?”
I scoff. “Fuck no.”
“Dude. I think you’re smiling,” he says as he buckles in.
“Watch it, Callahan,” I warn him as I pull into the light traffic on California Street.
“Did you find a lucky penny this morning? Wait. I bet you found a whole twenty in the dryer and now you’re gonna take us out to lunch?” He presses his hands together in mock prayer.
“You’re a cheap date. When was the last time you got lunch for one person for less than twenty bucks, let alone a crew?”
“So it was a hundo. Excellent. I suggest we get tacos. You, me, Bryant, and Falcon,” he says, then flashes me a grin.
I point at him before I turn at the light, like I’ve caught him in the act. “That on your pie hole? That’s a smile. Me? I don’t smile.”
“Right.” He lowers his voice to a faux whisper. “Your makeover is working. Admit it. This is Max 2.0. Watch as he helps little old ladies cross the street. Witness as he sings ‘Happy Birthday’ at the old folks’ home. Grab a seat in the front row as he knits blankets for puppies at the shelter.”
I growl again, then stab the button on the console. Thankfully, this time a new tune plays from Wesley’s “take-no-prisoners pre-game warm-up” playlist—an Arctic Monkeys tune. I crank the volume to full blast. “Do I Wanna Know” shuts up Asher for the rest of the short drive to the arena. I pull into the players’ lot next to Wesley, who’s getting out of his vehicle at the same time as we are.