Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“I…” I blinked and nodded.
“What’s up with him?” Brady popped into my periphery.
I liked this guy. Brady was a solid dude—a blond, blue-eyed boy-next-door cutie who tried hard to be good, ya know? He didn’t like ruffling feathers, and I respected that.
“He’s fucked up,” Ty reported. “And we’re not staying. Can you make sure Gus doesn’t do anything dumb?”
Brady sighed. “Why do I always end up playing babysitter? Regan can step up and…”
I squinted, catching every other word.
“…before Coach gets involved.”
“…he’s our captain. We have a responsibility to…”
“Gus needs…we know it…gotta do something.”
I wondered if they were talking about me. If so, I didn’t like the tone. Too negative.
I glided away like a ghost and headed for the stairs, passing the couple who had yet to come up for a breath of air. I left my beer on the landing next to the banister and moved down the hall toward Rafe’s room. The sound of sex in progress stopped me for a beat.
A low groan and a sucking noise. Shit.
Normally, I’d turn the other way, but Rafe was already pissed, and he’d come unfucking done if his bed was being used as a slam pad.
I peeked inside, and thankfully, the coast was clear. Just the usual neat stack of books on Rafe’s desk and the trophy he’d won at the end of his season. The room was a colorful contrast to the basic leather sectional and the battered coffee table in the family room downstairs. A bright duvet, a multicolored striped rug, a pink beanbag chair, and a funky beaded lamp that cast a bluish light when in use.
I closed his door, stumbling over the threshold and bouncing into the bathroom across the hall. The hinges creaked, and the sexy sounds got louder.
Hey, I was only human and this was my house, and—
Whoa!
A man was draped across the sink, jeans around his ankles as his lover kneeled on the floor and ate his ass. It was HOT. All caps.
I stared at them…I think. And I was pretty sure I told them that I loved the enthusiasm, but they couldn’t stay. My roommate would kill them…and me.
The guy on his knees grinned up at me and rubbed the heel of his palm along my fly. “C’mere.”
I leaned against the doorjamb long after the door closed in my face. Or did they leave? Maybe? I didn’t think I took him up on that BJ, but I wasn’t positive. It got foggy again until a girl showed up. She had red lips and long brown hair. She told me her name, but don’t ask me what it was.
We talked…or she talked to me. I was good at peopling and feigning interest in topics outside my wheelhouse. Good skill to have.
Maybe.
Next thing I knew we were kissing, one of those passionate kisses that always led to sweet release. But God, my brain was a murky mess. Pictures crashed and collided in my brain—the taste of strawberries, talented fingers unbuckling my belt, the slide of skin, and the feel of wet lips wrapped around my cock.
Maybe I came, maybe she did, maybe I dreamed the whole thing up.
I had no fucking idea. The static was overwhelming, pulling me under.
And then everything faded to black.
I woke the next morning alone, half-undressed. Sun cascaded through the open blinds and burned my retinas. The room spun as I struggled to sit up.
Oh, God. I closed my eyes and dropped my head between my thighs. There was something crusty on my shirt. It could have been anything from cum to vomit. Or both. Gross.
Fuck. I was gross.
My body ached, my insides churned like a cement mixer, and my teeth felt downright hairy. I stripped out of my clothes and lurched toward the en suite bathroom, barely making it to the toilet to empty the contents of my stomach.
I heaved and sweated through a bout of shivers, finally pulling myself up to stand at the sink. I splashed water on my face and made urgent use of my toothbrush before braving a glance at my reflection.
My eyes were bloodshot, my hair stood on end, and my pallor was ghostly. I looked like shit. Again.
This was the face of the team captain for the Smithton Bears, my friends. This was the guy who pumped up his teammates and the entire town. This guy was popular, in demand. He was somebody. Everyone said so.
But the truth wasn’t so pretty in this mirror.
This had to stop.
Now.
CHAPTER 4
RAFE
The house was a mess.
No, it was a disaster.
I paced the kitchen, grinding my teeth at the sight of dishes piled high in the sink, coated with a thick layer of dried syrup, bits of soggy nachos, sandwich crusts, and cigarette ashes. Beer bottles were lined up like toy soldiers on the windowsill, and some yellowy liquid had created a puddle under the fridge.