Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“Do you want me to stop talking?” I tease.
She shakes her head, her smile easy, and says, “Tell me about your trip.” She lifts her hand above the blanket, sliding it down to my palm on her hip.
Her fingers curl through mine, and all the air rushes from my lungs. Everything in me feels hot, needy. Our fingers link, and I don’t censor myself—I give her the truth of the trip. I tell her everything she asked. I don’t skip over the parts about her dad.
“Coach seemed pleased with how I handled the press conference in Montreal,” I say, my voice steady, “and with how I’ve been talking to the other players.”
“That’s good. It’s happening, isn’t it?”
I take a deep breath, letting the weight of this opportunity sink in. I’m proving myself as a co-captain. “I think so. It’s kind of wild. I’m glad…and ready to lead.” Except…I hesitate, then admit something hard. “Most of the time. Other times, I’m not so sure.”
Her expression softens. “Why would you think you’re not ready?”
Her question is gentle, like she knows how hard it is for me to say this out loud. Normally, I project confidence. That’s how I get through life. I’m the resilient one. The optimist. I work hard, focus, stay responsible, and move forward. But sometimes, I’m not that guy.
“I wonder if I’m taking on too much,” I say. “And if the guys will listen to me.” There’s more to it though. Something I can’t avoid. But tonight is for honesty. “And I wonder how the team would see me…” My gaze roams up and down her. “If they knew. About this.”
She exhales heavily, her grip on my hand tightening—a reassurance, like she’s saying we’re in this together. Or maybe I just want to believe that.
“But I know you’d make a great leader,” she says firmly. “You care enough to worry—that’s the difference. You have this calm confidence, this sense of purpose. You always seem to know exactly what to say. You’re going to be great, even when it’s hard. I really believe that.”
Her faith lifts me up. It’s everything I needed. “Vulnerability isn’t easy for me,” I say.
“I think you are with me though. Vulnerable.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m a lot of things with you that I’m not with other people.”
“Like what?”
Like falling for her—that’s what. I want to take care of her, watch her shine, cook for her, come home to her. But I can’t put all of that on her—not yet.
“Vulnerable,” I repeat. “Open. A little obsessed.”
That’s a lie. I’m a lot obsessed.
“Yeah?” she asks, sounding enchanted.
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about you. I think about you all the time, Leighton. I probably think about you too much.”
She lets go of my hand, reaching for my face, her thumb gliding along my jawline, her touch featherlight and maddening. I stay still, frozen in her touch, but the tension vibrates through my entire body as she looks at me. When her lips part slightly, everything in me tightens and unravels at the same time.
And then, I break.
I bend, leaning in, and crush my mouth to hers.
35
DOWN, BOY
Miles
My brain short-circuits. A hum vibrates through my body as we kiss, hot and deep. Our lips seal together. The taste of her sweet mouth is almost too much. Her vanilla and brown sugar scent drives me wild. And soon my thoughts disintegrate as my right hand slides into her hair, careful to avoid her ear. My fingers tangle in those strands I’ve missed, tugging gently at the ends. She moans into my mouth—a frantic sound that obliterates the last shreds of my control. Not that I had much to begin with.
I kiss her even harder, the way I know she likes it. The way I know she wants. She moves with me, her tongue seeking, her lips just as hungry and greedy as mine. It’s a kiss that’s wild, reckless, and so much more than the sum of its parts because we’re in perfect sync. We want the same things—in bed and, I’m starting to think, out of it too.
I break the kiss to trail my mouth along her jawline. I should take my glasses off, but I can’t be bothered to stop right now. My pulse hammers mercilessly as I find the hollow at the base of her throat and press my lips there. That spot reminds me of the locket we found the day we spent together.
“That locket looked so good on you,” I murmur against her skin, remembering it, wishing I could see it on her again.
“You’d look good in me,” she replies, her voice a blend of tease and heat.
A laugh bursts out of me, and I pull back just enough to look at her. She’s so fucking perfect for me. She keeps me on my toes—snarky, smart, kind, brave, passionate—and it feels like ages since I kissed her, even though it’s only been… “How the hell did I last a year without kissing you when it already feels like forever since I kissed you nine long days ago?”