Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Me: We are NOT getting married.
Kingston: We are. You'll see.
Kingston: You're going to fall for me, Evie. I'm not giving up until you do.
I read his message twice, my heart pounding. For a moment—just a split second really—I let myself wonder if he actually means it, if that's really what he's after here.
"Nope," I growl, dropping my phone onto the island. "No way." I'm not letting myself fall for that. I can't, not if I want to survive this man with my heart intact. He's dangerous, for a lot of reasons that it's far too damn early to even think about right now.
Instead, I do the smart thing.
I close out of our chat, determined not to open it again.
Chapter Four
Kingston
"Evie," I groan, one fist wrapped around my cock, the other planted against the shower wall. Images of her play behind my eyes like a fucking movie. She's on her knees, staring up at me with those blue eyes, a dangerous smirk on her face, her hair a mess.
Goddamn, she's beautiful.
I've been obsessed with that photo she sent me for three days now. She'd probably kill me if she knew how many times I've jerked off to it, but that hasn't stopped me, either.
I squeeze tighter, working my fist up and down my shaft. Her name rumbles from my lips in a loud groan as my balls draw up.
I come hard, my seed splashing against the wall.
"Fuck," I pant, locking my legs to keep myself upright. "Fuck."
I'm losing my mind. There's no other way to put it. I've been messaging her at every opportunity for the last three days. She hasn't messaged back since I told her we were getting married, but I know she's reading them.
I can wait her out. I'm a patient motherfucker.
I quickly scrub up, wash my cum from the wall, and then climb from the shower to grab a towel. It's not even fully around my waist before I'm reaching for my phone to message her again.
My goddamn legs nearly give out when I see a notification from her.
Evie: A reporter asked me about you today.
Me: What'd you say, princess?
I hold my breath, praying she didn't tell them I'm the fucking creep who won't leave her alone. At this point, I wouldn't blame her. I know I'm coming on strong. I know she has every right to block me and tell me to fuck all the way off.
Obsession like this can't be healthy, right?
It should worry me how little I care about the answer to that question. I want to be this obsessed. I want to keep messaging her, thinking about her, dreaming about her.
I just want her, dammit.
Evie: I told her that you were nice to me.
"Yes!" I shout like I just sank the puck and won the Cup. As far as I'm concerned, this is better than a winning goal. My girl could have told the reporter that I won't leave her alone. She could have told the world that she doesn't know me, or that I'm ridiculous, or any number of other things that would have made it clear that there's nothing between us. She didn't.
She told them that I'm nice to her. They're going to eat that shit up like she just told them that we're fucking, and I know she's smart enough to realize that.
Me: I'll always be nice to you, Evie.
I stride into the bedroom, waiting for her to respond…praying she does. Two days without her messages is my limit. I'm ready to snap. Had I not been in Cincinnati for a game, I probably would have hunted her down.
Evie: Have you really been listening to my album, or was that just a line?
I grin, settling back against the pillows.
Me: The cracked blacktop is an old, familiar friend who never judges our vices and our sins. But it's a damn cold substitute for what we're too afraid to let begin.
Evie: Did you just Google the lyrics?
I laugh softly, my hands flying across my screen.
Me: Hell no. I memorized them. You wrote that one with Clayton Devine and Bentley and Cami Reynolds.
Evie: Yeah. They're good friends with my dad.
It's wild to me that she grew up surrounded by some of the biggest stars in the world. I've been stalking the fuck out of her Instagram. A lot of girls in her position would be spoiled little princesses. Not Evie.
She's so fucking sweet. There isn't a single story about her being rude to fans or to waitstaff or to anyone. Everyone loves her. They all want to be close to her.
I'm sure having a father in the music business didn't hurt when it came to getting a foot in the door, but she started in dive bars, just like he did, as if she were determined to do it the hard way just to prove to herself that she could.