Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail. Sweat makes flyaways stick to her skin. She’s wearing one of my loose tanks that doesn’t hide anything with a blue sports bra underneath. Her yoga pants hug her ass in a way that makes me want to tell the guys to come back later.
I wrap an arm around her waist and nuzzle her neck. “I’d rather get started with you in the bedroom.”
She tips her head to give me access to more skin. “I’m a gross mess.”
I lick her salty skin. “You taste like you want to be naked.”
She laughs and pushes on my chest. “Put a pin in it, Tristan. We’ll be alone in a few hours. You can lick every inch of me then.”
“Waiting sucks.”
“Says the king of withholding orgasms.”
“I’ll give you one right now to tide you over,” I bargain.
“Alluring, but my brother and your teammates are on the way back up with living room furniture, and Hammer, Hemi, Shilpa, Dred, and Tally are setting up the spare bedroom.” The chatter of female voices filters down the hall. “We both know you’ll do something dirty, and I’ll probably be louder than I mean to, and it’ll be embarrassing, mostly for me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she’s not wrong.
As if on cue, Dallas, Flip, Hollis, Ashish, and Roman grunt their way through the propped-open door, each carrying huge boxes containing new furniture. I probably should have hired movers, but Flip argued that it was an unnecessary expense when we have an entire team who can unload a truck within an hour.
“Stop looking at your girlfriend like that, Tristan. We’ll be out of here in a couple hours,” Hollis grumbles as he passes.
Bea laughs and untangles herself from my arms.
A few seconds later, more of my teammates appear with boxes.
I give up on getting into Bea’s pants for now. She’s right. We’ll have all night together. The more we get done now, the less I’ll have to manage on my own.
“Just a couple more trips and the truck will be empty,” Flip says.
“I’ll check on the girls, and we can get started on lunch.” Bea’s fingers skim my back as she passes.
I latch onto her wrist before she can get very far.
She spins to face me, her expression expectant.
“Thanks for being here today, and for going to all the trouble to make sure the fridge is stocked.” She brought over two coolers of food this morning and a case of vitamin water, plus beer and wine for after we’ve finished unloading the truck.
She smiles up at me. “I’m happy to help.”
I lean in and brush my nose against hers. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She squeezes my hand and winks. “Go help the guys and I’ll get lunch ready, so we can kick everyone out sooner.”
I pull her in for a brief hug. I’m getting better at affection. It’s not something I’m inherently good at because I didn’t get a whole lot of it growing up. My dad was good with praise and back pats and being present, but hugs were rare, and my mom’s version of affection usually involved telling me she was surprised I hadn’t screwed something up. Or sometimes throwing shit around me instead of at me when she was particularly frustrated. I equated hugs with weakness. But Bea is slowly changing that, and I try to show her through more than just gifts and words how important she is.
The therapist Roman suggested has been helpful, too. Talking about my feelings isn’t my favorite, but I want this to work with Bea, so I go every week. The more I do it, the easier it gets.
“You’re poking me in the wrong hole,” Bea mutters when my erection nudges her navel.
“He loves you, too.”
“When everyone leaves, we can start christening rooms. The bathroom should probably be first.”
“I vote kitchen. I saw all the cucumbers in the crisper.”
She laughs and pushes on my chest.
I release her and head for the living room, where the guys are unboxing my new furniture. Bea came with me to pick most of it out.
An hour later, the living room is set up, along with my bedroom, the spare room, both bathrooms, and the kitchen. The dining room table is covered in a lunch buffet of wraps, homemade pizzas, salads, and a dessert platter. My teammates all go back for seconds and ask who catered. I tell them Bea put it together on her own, and Hollis and Roman talk up how awesome it’s been to have her prepping meals for them when they have home games. She doesn’t have time to take on more right now, but she loves it, so I’m hopeful that could change in the future.
We’ve been discussing what it would take for Bea to go back to school for sports nutrition. I have a plan that includes getting her to move in with me. I’m not pushing her, though. I know she wants to forge her own path, but when she’s ready to take that step, I’ll be here to help her achieve that dream.