Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Her head thrashes back and forth on the pillow and I put my mouth up to her ear, stopping her fight against the inevitable orgasm. “I love you. Now come like a fucking good girl.”
Her brows wrinkle in ecstasy and her body contracts before spasming. I press the base of my palm against her clit, fucking her with two fingers to encourage her to come harder and longer, dragging it out as long as possible for her. After taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, she cracks one eye.
“Holy shit.”
I laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She nods. “You should.” Turning to Riggs, she says, “You too. That was amazing.”
“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I fall out of the way, letting Riggs pick Kayla up from the bed. He carries her to the bathroom like the princess she sometimes likes to be, and I catch my breath. Staring up at the ceiling, I can’t help but smile at the crazy turns life takes.
Somehow, we’ve pulled it off. From fucking to falling in love.
I hear the shower door close as my best friend and my woman step into the water and find the energy to get up. “Hey, wait for me!”
RIGGS
“Nervous?” Maddox teases.
I don’t know how he can be so relaxed. It honestly pisses me off when I’m fighting against my tendencies to shut down and shut up. I choose to ignore him and instead, wipe my hands on my jeans again and ask Kayla, “You’re sure jeans are okay?”
She looks gorgeous as usual in pleated linen pants, heeled leather sandals, and a tank top-style sweater the color of the night sky. I didn’t even know they made sweaters like this, but she wears it like a goddess. Her hair is a gleaming blonde curtain down her back, her makeup is subtle but oddly glowy, and she’s wearing tasteful diamond studs in her ears and a matching tennis bracelet with her Rolex. She looks like what she is—classy, expensive, and elegant.
Meanwhile, I’m in black jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeve button-up, also black, which were all hand-selected by Kayla herself. She’d taken pity on me after I’d stood in my closet for an embarrassingly long time, blankly staring at my clothes, which are ninety percent black or grey, and the rest are all team gear that I wear for team activities or appearances.
It could be worse, I think, eyeing Maddox. He didn’t need help, but Kayla approved his Meet the Parents outfit of khaki pants, a fitted T-shirt plus an unbuttoned shirt over it, and loafers. His shoes alone would’ve had me nope-ing out of this whole thing.
She pauses, mere feet from the entrance to a house that’s bigger than any I’ve seen in person, and I’ve been to the team owner’s house for Christmas parties. Fancy doesn’t begin to describe her family home. On the way here, she called it an estate and I’d asked what the hell that meant. She’d said I’d understand when we got here, and let’s just say… I do. It’s huge and stately, with a water fountain worthy of a museum in the round front drive, which is stacked with expensive cars, SUVs, and one dusty pickup truck I recognize as Kyle’s.
“You’re fine. We’ll be lucky if Kyle’s shirt doesn’t have holes in the armpits, and it will one hundred percent be covered in dog hair.” She tugs at my collar, under the guise of straightening it, but I think she’s just bringing my focus to her and only her. It works. My eyes search hers, finding strength, acceptance… and complete love. “I want you to be comfortable. I know this is hard on you.”
She’s being generous. For a man who doesn’t like people all that much and speaks in grunts more than sentences most of the time, I’m walking into a space filled with people I want to impress and who I want to like me. Plus, the sheer quantity of Kayla’s family is a bit nerve-racking. I know a hockey roster is larger, but it’s easier there because everyone’s wearing their names on their jerseys during training camp, and nobody gets too angry if you address them as ‘Hey, Asshole’ for a day or two.
I don’t think I can do that here, so I’ve been reviewing names and stories in my head all day like there’s going to be a quiz. Actually, the whole night is pretty much a test.
Of me. Of Maddox. Of the three of us.
I take a steadying breath and nod.
“Let’s do this thing,” Maddox says, grinning like beyond the double front doors are all the new best friends he just hasn’t met yet. “Are you a doorbell kinda family or a walk on in sort?”
Kayla smiles at him. At least she doesn’t have to worry about him.