Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
By the time he’s inside me, I’m just a stuttering, quivering mess, my soul hanging out somewhere near the rafters.
“Fuck,” he groans, his forehead against mine as he pushes into me. “You feel so fucking good every damn time, princess.”
“I know!” I claw at his back, trying not to lose my mind as he lifts me up and down his cock at a rapid pace, fucking me until the door rattles behind me and I’m biting him to stifle my screams.
I shatter around him once and then again before he plants himself deep, moaning that he loves me as he spills into me.
We’re both out of breath and sweaty as he helps me dress. We’re both smiling, too. I love this man. So damn much.
“Think we’re busted?” he asks, smirking like he doesn’t give a shit as he cracks the door open and then peeks out into the hall. Apparently, the coast is clear because he pulls me out behind him.
We’re not even four steps away before Coach Lariat comes around the corner and spots us. His brows furrow. “What the fuck are you still doing here, Silvestri?”
“Leaving,” Jordan says.
Lariat’s piercing gaze shifts from him to me, his eyes narrowing. And then he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m putting locks on the fucking closets around here,” he mutters, turning to walk away.
I fall into Jordan, laughing hysterically.
Jordan chokes on a laugh, practically hauling me down the hall.
“You’re in so much trouble,” I say through laughter as we burst out into the parking lot.
“Me? Nash is the one he’s going to fucking murder,” Jordan says with a rough chuckle. “I bet he doesn’t have a clue Emilia’s dad knows they’re fucking in the closet.”
“You going to tell him?”
“Hell no. I’m going to sit back and watch the fireworks. Are you kidding me? Coach is already pissed that he’s dating his daughter. The first time he catches them in a closet, his head might actually explode.”
“Jordan!”
He just grins at me, shrugging unapologetically.
I shake my head, smiling so big my cheeks hurt. God, I needed tonight. I need this man. I need forever.
“Silvestri!”
Jordan spins when someone shouts his name from behind us. “Son of a bitch,” he growls, stiffening beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, eyeing the guy in the suit warily.
“It’s Charles Montaque.”
“Oh no,” I whisper, my stomach twisting with anxiety. I’ve never met him before, but I’ve heard plenty about him. Apparently, he’s caused all kinds of trouble for the team, especially lately. If he’s here looking for Jordan now, I’m guessing it’s not good.
Charles jogs toward us, his piercing blue eyes locked on me. “Ms. Peters,” he says, dipping his head in a nod.
“Don’t talk to her, Montaque,” Jordan growls, a dangerous warning rumbling in his voice. “You aren’t doing the same shit to us that you’ve done to my teammates. Fuck you and whatever you want.”
“So, you don’t know,” he says, eyes widening slightly.
“Know what?” Jordan growls, his fists clenched at his sides.
Charles glances at me, and for a moment, I think I see pity in his eyes. But I don’t know why. I don’t even know him, and he certainly doesn’t know me.
“Approximately an hour ago, Jamison Peters announced that he wouldn’t be renewing his contract with the Bucks,” Charles says. “He’s retiring, effective immediately.”
“What? Why?” I ask, shock running through me in a current.
“To enter rehab for alcohol addiction.”
My knees tremble beneath me, threatening to buckle. Jordan notices and quickly wraps an arm around my waist, hauling me up against his side.
“He put out a statement.”
“W-What…” I have to lick my lips to work moisture back into my mouth. “What kind of statement?”
“The kind that everyone is talking about right now,” Charles glances between me and Jordan. “I’m guessing the two of you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Neither of us says anything. I can’t. Words won’t form. Jamison… God, he put out a statement? He admitted what he did? I can’t even wrap my mind around this. He’s been selfish and done the worst possible thing for so long. I guess I expected him to continue. I was afraid to hope that he’d finally tell the truth.
“Do either of you want to comment?” Charles asks.
“Fuck no,” Jordan snarls at him. “If you have questions about his statement, ask him.”
Charles nods like he expected that answer, eyeing Jordan critically. “You shouldered the blame for that fight for a long time. I guess I don’t have to ask why.” His gaze drifts to me, his lips curving slightly. “I have a feeling the world is going to look at him differently now.”
A lump forms in my throat, threatening to choke me. God, I hope the world looks at him differently now. I hope they finally stop bashing him for that damn fight. Maybe he shouldn’t have attacked Jamison in the middle of a game like he did, but I can’t say that he was wrong for doing it.