Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I don’t argue, aware I likely smell like a frat house the morning after initiation, and shrug out of my robe as the door closes behind him. My shirt is next, and since I didn’t have any panties on to begin with, I step inside.
My muscles clench, back aching at the first spray of the water against my skin, but after a moment, it feels nothing short of amazing.
The sheer amount of sweat covering my body is disgusting, and I pull on all my strength to wash effectively, working on my hair last. I let the conditioner sit for a minute, then just lean my head back and let the pressure of the spray do all the work getting it out.
I climb from the shower, too weak to do much but pat at my hair and quickly dry what I can. I slip back into my robe and shuffle out.
The moment the door opens, Brady calls from my room, “In here!”
I move in, expecting to find him lying down, but when I enter, he’s fluffing the last of all eight of my pillows. My eyes fall to the pile of blankets on the floor and move back to the bed.
The plum-colored sheets have been stripped, replaced with my white-and-lavender set.
Brady pulls the blankets down to the foot of the bed, revealing the matching lavender sheets. Looks like he even changed the mattress pad out for the brand-new one I had at the top of my closet. I haven’t changed that since I moved in.
Finally, he looks back, doing a double take when he realizes I’m just standing here staring.
“You gonna come sit down or what?” he teases, patting the puffiest pillow settled against the headboard.
I want to run and jump into the pile. There is nothing better than fresh bedding, except maybe fresh bedding and freshly shaved legs. But we won’t talk about that right now and if I try to run—even two steps—I’m afraid I’ll get sick.
I walk over, climbing into the pile of pillows, and my eyes close on a heavy exhale, but then Brady is hauling me up.
“Don’t be mean. Let me sleep,” I whine, and he chuckles, settling in behind me.
“Almost. Just gotta brush your hair.”
“Fine.” I pout.
He gathers my hair, making sure it’s all hanging down my back, and I wait for him to hand me the brush, but he doesn’t do that.
Starting at the tips like some kind of professional, Brady begins combing through the tangles in my hair. Little by little, he moves higher in the length, until he makes his way to the scalp.
He’s gentle around my face, brushing it back in a slicking motion and working through the length. He does this over and over, the bristles of the brush a massage against my scalp.
“God, that feels so good,” I moan.
His hand slips slightly, scraping the edge of my ear, and I yelp, making a throaty chuckle leave him. “I think the tangles are out now. Ready to get some sleep?”
I nod, though I’m not sure I’m all that tired. I feel exhausted, but I’ve done nothing but sleep all weekend. Terrible, tossy-turny sleep, but sleep nonetheless.
Brady kisses my head and stands, jerking his chin for me to move up to the pillows.
“Wait.” I reach out, gripping his fingers in case he tries to go. “You’re leaving?”
He raises a brow, his hand turning in mine until our fingers are laced together. “You think I put clean, germless sheets on for your sake?”
I press my tongue behind my teeth to fight a smile, scowling playfully.
“All right, fine, that was all for you, but no, I’m not leaving. I do need to shower, though, and I can sleep on the couch if you want your bed to yourself. I just need to be here to make sure you’re good.” He reaches out, running his knuckles along my forehead before putting one under my chin, tipping my head up so he can look at me better. “Too many days alone. You’re dehydrated.”
“I don’t want to sleep alone, but I don’t want you to get sick,” I admit.
“Let me worry about me, all right?” His voice is almost a whisper.
His fingers squeeze mine, and then he turns and walks out of the room, the door to the bathroom closing a moment later.
I drop back onto the pillows with a sigh, stretching my hands until I can reach the remote on the bedside table. I flip through some movie options, but nothing catches my attention, and I decide Brady can pick.
My eyes move to the wall on the left. He’s on the other side, clearly having come here straight off the team bus. I’m sure he showered after the game, but there’s something about a long car ride that demands another rinse.
It was sweet of him to come by but not surprising. He’s always looking out for us girls. Well, I guess we all look out for each other, but Brady’s just…different. Better.