Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Am I superstitious?
Hell, yeah.
I’ve also got on my lucky socks and boxers. Both have been turned inside out for the occasion.
It’s half-time and the Titans are up by seven, although with that turnover, who the hell knows what’s going to happen. Normally, I’m a hundred percent focused on the game but Daisy’s wearing a curve-hugging navy V-neck shirt with a silver T stamped across the front.
It’s sexy as fuck. Like I need any more excuses to ogle her breasts.
And the tiny white shorts she’s wearing…
Every time she jumps up to grab a snack or drink from the kitchen, my eyes gravitate to the rhythmic sway of her hips. I shift on the chair trying to inconspicuously ease the boner I’ve been sporting for the last hour and a half. She’s always had this kind of effect on me, but now that I’ve had a taste of her, it’s more intense. There’s not one damn moment that goes by when I don’t want to lay my hands on her. You know it’s bad when you’re midway through a three-hour practice, sweating your ass off, and out of nowhere, you’re struck with the memory of what it feels like to be buried balls deep in her slick heat.
That’s when the whole damn practice goes to hell in a handbasket.
For the time being, we’ve agreed to keep our relationship on the downlow. It’s just sex. And lots of it. Neither of us have attempted to slap a label on this.
In my experience, most girls want to pin you down. Sure, at the onset, they say they’re cool with a hookup situation. But you’re quickly made aware after the deed has been done, that they don’t necessarily believe the line of crap they spoon fed you.
Been there, done that. I do my best to weed out needy females. But some are better at camouflaging it than others. It’s a crapshoot as far as I’m concerned.
I kind of expected that with Daisy.
And yet, she hasn’t said one damn word about wanting to specify what this is. But Daisy isn’t like the girls I usually take home. So, I’m not sure why I thought she would be in this regard.
It’s probably best if this remains casual in nature. There’s too much standing in our way. I can’t be with anyone right now.
Especially her.
My gaze settles on my best friend. He has no idea what’s going on beneath his nose. I wince thinking about what he’d do if he discovered our secret. I wouldn’t blame him one bit for beating the crap out of me. I shouldn’t have touched Daisy in the first place but it’s too late for regrets.
So, all of us being together in the same place at the same time is a little unnerving.
Unless we’re alone in the apartment, Daisy and I have to pretend we’re nothing more than friends. Last week, while walking to class, I almost reached out and nabbed her fingers with my own. The urge was there and for a moment, I forgot we couldn’t do it. If anyone caught us holding hands or with my arm slung across her shoulders, it would spread across campus like wildfire.
It would only be a matter of time before Noah caught wind of it. He’s the one person I don’t want to hurt. The guy has always been there for me. His family is like my own.
I rip my gaze from Noah and refocus my attention on the game. Although I have no idea what’s going on. Once again, Daisy is dominating my every waking thought.
Guess it’s not just my socks and underwear that have been turned inside out.
I jerk when Daisy jumps to her feet and throws her hands in the air. “Oh, come on! What the hell kind of call was that? He clearly had the ball when he was knocked out of bounds!”
Yeah, that’s another thing…
The girl likes football.
Actually, she loves it.
She understands the finer nuances of the game. Daisy isn’t pretending to enjoy football because I play it. Hell, she’d have the game on even if Noah and I weren’t home to watch it with her. And that, my friends, is probably the sexiest thing of all.
Which is precisely why I’m screwed seven different ways to Sunday. There’s not a damn thing I don’t like about her. Believe me, I’ve tried racking my brain for something to latch onto.
But I can’t. She’s fucking perfect.
The buzzer rings and I watch Daisy as she gracefully unfolds herself from the couch and jogs to the door.
Goddamn that ass.
Not to mention the adorable navy socks she has pulled up to her knees with the silver T’s on them.
I hear a deep male voice followed by her laughter.
What the hell?
She offers some playful banter I’m barely able to make sense of even though my ears are attuned to the sound of her voice. I’m two seconds away from flying over there and putting the kibosh on whatever flirtation is happening when she returns with three boxes of pizza, an order of breadsticks, and a salad.