Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
When he slides behind the wheel, he backs out of the lot before reaching over and taking my hand in his. The act is unhurried, familiar, like something we’ve done a hundred times before. He brings our joined hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles, and then lets them settle on his thigh, steady and warm.
Comforting.
I keep my eyes glued to the road ahead, streetlights a blur as we pass by. No words are spoken, but none are needed. The quiet isn’t awkward or heavy; it feels earned, like a pause we both understand. The low hum of the engine fills the space between us, grounding me in the moment.
My breathing is slow and even, and my body is relaxed into the soft leather seat. It’s enough just to be here. Knowing that wherever life takes us, it’s going to take us there together.
Once we’re in the garage, Foster turns off the car and steps out, rushing around to open my door, offering me his hand to help me. Once I’m out of the car, he bends, totes me over his shoulder, and carries me into the house. He stops long enough to drop his keys on the counter before he takes the stairs, as if he’s not carrying any weight at all.
When we step into our room, he flips on the light, before he gently places me on the bed and falls to his knees before me. His brown eyes are so expressive. It’s as if I can read his mind.
“Thank you for today, Eden. I didn’t know how much I needed someone there for me. Not just someone. You. It felt different being out on that field tonight. It felt better, like all my senses were heightened.”
“I loved watching you doing what you were made to do. I’ll never forget my first game,” I tell him, pushing his still-damp hair out of his eyes. “Are you ready for your surprise?” I ask, because I’m more than ready to strip down and let this man have his way with me.
“You are my surprise, baby. The best one I’ve ever been given.”
“I love you,” I tell him. “But I think this one will be a contender.” I reach for the hem of my jersey, but he stops me.
“Why are you taking off my jersey? I had plans to make you scream my name while wearing that,” he says, his eyes heated.
“You’ll see,” I tell him, tugging off the jersey and tossing it behind me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says, and then his mouth falls open. “Is that my name?” he asks, leaning in close, as if that might change what he’s seeing.
“It is.”
“Where did you get this?”
“Sloane. She makes them. All the girls have them. Now, so do I.”
“Now it all makes sense.” He laughs. “This is a close second,” he agrees, his fingers gently tracing over his name. “There’s more?”
“Yep,” I say, easing back on the bed and unbuttoning my jeans. He moves quickly to pull off my shoes and help me shimmy out of my jeans. I slide off the bed, stand, and turn so he can see the rest. He grips my hips.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “You like?”
“Love, baby. I love. You, the lingerie, the entire fucking package.” He stands and presses his stiff cock against my ass. “I’ll love the lingerie a little better on our bedroom floor,” he muses as he unsnaps my bra, tossing it away. He then slides his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slides them down my legs.
I jolt when I feel his hot breath as he kisses one cheek, then the other, before gripping a handful of my ass. “I need you like this,” he rasps.
“Please,” I beg, because I need him inside me. I’ve been thinking about his reaction and this moment since I slid into the gifts that were just as much for me as they were for him.
“This is going to be fast, baby.”
“We have a lifetime to go slow,” I remind him.
“That’s right,” he murmurs, reaching between my thighs. “A lifetime of drowning in this pussy,” he says, before his mouth replaces his hand. I realize then he’s on his knees behind me, while I’m bent over the bed.
I don’t have time to think about what this must look like, what I must look like, because his tongue is doing extraordinary things, but it’s not enough. I need him inside me. “Foster, please,” I beg again.
He stands, aligns himself at my entrance, and pushes inside. We both curse at the feeling before he pulls out and slams back in. I try to stand but can’t do it on my own. Foster helps me, one arm banded around my chest, the other gripping my hip as he pounds into me, over and over again.