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)
“Max,” I say, my voice breaking because I’m too scared to say anything more. Like if I open my mouth, I’ll tell him that I could fall for him and never look back.
He reaches for my hands, takes both of them in his. “I was worried about you during the game too. What you were thinking about when I was playing, and it messed with my head.”
That was why he had a bad game. I fight off a smile because I shouldn’t enjoy this. But I do. “I wasn’t sure what to think when I saw her,” I admit, since we’re not holding back anymore. And since we’re laying ourselves bare, I add, “But I was hoping she wasn’t there for you.”
A small smile tips his lips—one of relief maybe. Like he can relax now that I’ve shared some of myself too.
“Know this,” he says emphatically. “I think about you far too much. I think about you all the time. I’ve been thinking about you for so fucking long and denying it. For the last year, I’ve been thinking about you and thinking I didn’t like you.” The words seem to pour out with no sign of stopping, though I make a mental note that I’ve been on his mind since several months after his painful breakup. That surprises me, but also kind of thrills me. “But I don’t think that was the case at all.” He pauses, breathes out hard. “It’s the opposite.”
My breath catches, and I feel like I’m going to cry. My throat is tight, and my eyes are shining, and my heart is beating too fast. This is a new kind of courage, but I’m pretty sure I’m ready for this. “It’s the same for me,” I admit.
When he smiles, there’s nothing cocky in it. It’s utter relief.
“Good. That’s so damn good,” he says, resting his forehead briefly against mine. I feel caught in this heady world with him, where it’s only us, and he’s breathing against me in the night.
My fingers trace his bottom lip, and I take another chance. “You hardly smile…but you do with me.”
“I guess you’ve figured me out,” he says quietly. Then he pulls back. “I came over here, too, to tell you what happened that night a year and a half ago. A week or so after the fight, when everyone showed up at my sister’s house. I want you to know everything.”
My heart clenches at the way he’s letting me in so deeply, so freely. I want to hear all his stories. I want to know him better. I want to understand him even when I shouldn’t, even when it’s risky.
But right now, I don’t want to talk.
“Tell me later,” I say.
I grab the back of his neck and pull him against me, then I slide down on the couch, dragging this big hockey player with me, the full weight of his big frame on me.
This delicious feeling of being surrounded by him spreads through my body. By his strength, by his scent, by his passion. That feeling takes over everything, including my scarred and broken heart.
I don’t text my friends. I don’t want to stop. I want to unlock all these feelings for him.
I look up into his heated eyes, then say something risky and true. “Show me how much you think about me.”
32
THREE TIMES
Max
She kisses me hard enough to hurt. She’s all tongue and teeth and need, kissing and biting and devouring. My pulse surges, and my brain is spinning out just from the hunger of her kiss. The desire in it. The urgency.
Everly’s frenzied tonight, and it’s mind-bending to get to know this side of her. It’s such a fucking privilege to know any side of her. But especially the intimate one.
The one I suspect she rarely shows a soul.
I’m such a lucky fucker, and I’m going to do everything I can to deserve this luck. Every damn thing.
It feels too good to be with her. Too right.
As she explores my mouth greedily, she pushes at my gray Henley, tugging at the hem with eager hands ready to strip me.
What the lady wants…
I wrench my mouth from hers. Her lips are bruised, and it’s a beautiful look. I pluck at the fabric of my shirt, then ask dryly, “I think you might want this off?”
“Yes. Now,” she says in a ravenous demand that sends electricity sparking down my spine.
I tug it off. Her eyes flutter closed for a second like the view is too much. Masculine pride surges through me from her reaction.
When she opens her eyes, I reach for her hands and guide her palms to my pecs.
With a shudder she spreads her fingers over my chest, then slides them down my stomach, tracing the ladder of my abs, traveling to the waistband of my jeans. Teasing at the button. My breath halts, and now I’m the one shuddering from her touch.