Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Tell me what you have so far, for the article,” I demanded, the words coming out of nowhere.
He raised one eyebrow. “A little of this, a little of that.”
“You don’t have shit, do you?” I asked. “You have nothing to tell me because you have no article yet, do you?”
His eyes widened just for a moment. I watched as he turned back to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, reaching for a bottle of Jack and pouring himself some in a red cup.
“First of all, no matter how drunk I am, I can always handle my liquor,” he said. “And second, I have plenty for my article already, and I’m nowhere near done yet.”
“Then what is it?” I asked.
Fire was rising inside me now.
I knew he’d tell me more.
“The article will all be about how perfect you are, Andrew. How gracefully you catch a football. How you’re destined for the Hall of Fame. Is that all you want to hear?”
“I want to hear the truth.”
He took a sip of his drink. “Don’t worry. You and Luke have been giving me plenty to think about tonight. I didn’t know Coach Ennick’s son was into men, too. You ever tried begging him for his cock the way you beg me?”
I wanted to strangle him right now. “Danny Ennick sure as fuck isn’t my type.”
“All right, all right. I was just asking, Peach. I know you and Luke have more of a bromance going anyway.”
He was making me insane.
“Jealous again?” I asked. He was pouring gasoline right onto that fire that was raging in my chest. “What is your problem?”
“There are many facets to the TNU Tempests. Luke’s lovey-dovey eyes at you are just one of them.”
I pried the red cup right out of his hand.
I tipped it back and downed the whiskey myself, the liquor burning in my throat.
And I left.
I pushed through the crowd, holding myself back from everything I wanted to scream back at Gray, forcing myself to go out onto the back patio instead.
I headed through one of the back doors, the cool evening air hitting my skin. I walked over to the edge of the patio beneath one of the tall trees. There were benches out here by the grill which were blissfully empty right now.
I sat for a moment, then realized I was too agitated to sit.
I went and leaned back against one of the big tree trunks, listening to the dull bumping of the bass coming from the house.
Just. Chill.
He’s fucking with you.
He doesn’t know anything about Danny Ennick.
And there’s nothing he could write about you and Luke, anyway.
It still pissed me off more than it should.
Was he actually jealous of Luke?
Or did he just want to see me suffer?
The door opened a minute later and I saw Gray come outside. He glanced around before spotting me, heading over.
“What are you so afraid of me writing about, Peachel?” he asked, stepping onto the lawn beside me. “You hate it when I talk about Luke, but there’s more than that. Is it something about a past relationship? Football team drama? Did you do something you shouldn't?”
I burst into action before I could contain myself.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him up against the brick wall beside us.
Nobody knew we were out here. I had at least a little while alone with him.
“Fuck you,” I said.
“So there’s my answer,” he said, his pretty eyes glinting up at me, reflecting the little light on the patio behind us. “You did do something you shouldn’t have.”
“You realize I could throw you out of this house, don’t you?”
Gray pulled in a slow breath.
I still had my hands up against his chest.
“Heard a rumor you punched a guy out, but I didn’t actually believe it until now.”
My chest went molten hot.
It was as if the world just tipped on its axis, and the floor had given out under my feet.
No.
There’s no fucking way he could know about that.
No, no, no, goddamnit no.
CHAPTER 10
GRAY
Is it wrong to get hard when a jock shoves you up against a wall?
It is bad to get even harder when you finally tell him that you know about his little incident at a bar, and you see the white-hot rage in his eyes?
Or am I just drunk?
Fucked-up beyond measure?
Thinking only with my cock because my brain is steeped in whiskey?
His hands were still on my chest, gripping with a fury I hadn’t felt in him before. I wanted him to grip harder.
See those eyes narrow even more, with me in their sights.
The feeling of this—of being pushed up against a wall by a man who was stronger than me, but who craved my cock like it was his preferred fucking drug? There was no better feeling in the world.
And I really, really am starting to like you too much.