Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Slow down, baby,” he murmured as I shoved down his sweatpants to get at his cock. I craved the connection, craved the sensation of him filling me up after weeks of loneliness. “You’re gonna get me too worked up.”
“Can’t.” I kicked off my own sweats and tee, then worked my way up and down the smooth lines of his body, touching, kissing, and licking his warm skin until he pushed me onto my back. I fought to catch my breath as he planted a big hand on my chest, pinning me as he swallowed my cock.
My body reacted like I’d never had a blowjob in my life, back arching, fingers scrabbling at the sheets, and he alternated between licking and sucking my crown while pumping my shaft until I was incoherent with desire that spilled over his knuckles minutes later.
I was still gasping when he used my release to slick himself up, spread my thighs, and push inside me.
“Fuck,” we groaned together.
The burning hot spark of connection rushed through me, filling the void I’d been battling, and I grasped Tucker’s waist, pulling him closer, harder, faster until he was grunting with exertion, pummeling me deep and hitting all the nerve endings that sent my eyes rolling back in my head. It was quick, primal, and exactly what we both needed. He came on a guttural cry and sank against me, lips brushing over mine.
“Hey, good to see you.” He laughed, rolling onto his side, one hand still possessively splayed over my hip. I’d never tell him how much I fucking loved when he did that because I never wanted him to be conscious of it.
“Hi. Did we just fuck, or did a tornado hit us?” I quipped.
He craned his head up and scanned the room before turning back to me. “Hard to say.”
“Don’t hate it, though.” I sucked in a breath, rolling onto my side to face him, my gaze gravitating to the warm depths of eyes that felt like one of the few safe havens in my life. “That stuff you always say about how I’m yours, it’s true. I’m yours, even if you just sort of say it because it’s hot and sexy and gets me worked up. It’s still true for me.” I paused for a breath. “I, um…I fucking love you. And even if I can’t ever play football again, that’ll still be true.”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Tucker’s laughter was quiet and intimate as I lifted a quizzical brow. “That’s what ‘you’re mine’ means, Patrick. I’ve been telling you how I feel for a long time. Glad you finally got a clue, you dumbass.”
My mouth opened, but no words came out, so I did the next logical thing, which was to steamroll his ass and kiss him again.
We lay in bed after we’d showered, watching the Royals play on TV and the Rush on Tucker’s laptop while we stuffed our faces with room service.
“You know, if we get fired, we could always go play for Canada or something,” Tucker said around a bite of macaroni.
“Canada? For real?”
“I’m half-joking, half-serious.” He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to visit Banff.”
I smirked at him sidelong. “Funny, that’s the exact sound you made when Clancy knocked your ass to the turf last time we played you.”
Tucker damn near choked on his food but managed to swallow before he took his turn steamrolling me. Silverware and plates clattered as we wrestled, but we both went still when his phone rang. Like me, he’d become highly attuned to the sound, on edge to see what our fate would be.
Tucker moved just as fast as he did on the field to grab his phone off the nightstand. “Shit, it’s Larry Dixon.” He rolled upright as he answered. “Hey,” he said, and as he listened, cocking his head, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
My appetite vanished in a second, the food sloshing around in my stomach suddenly making me queasy.
22
TUCKER
“Hey, Malik. How are you doing?” Larry Dixon asked as if he was just calling for a random chat rather than having my career in his hands. Part of me wanted to hang up and lose myself in Patrick’s body again, getting so blissed-out by the pleasure of him that I forgot what was at stake. I’d be pissed if this didn’t go our way, but it would be worth it. Having him was worth any-fucking-thing, but I also didn’t want to go out like this. I wanted it to be on our terms and without the dark cloud of an inquiry hanging over our heads.
“Just tell me,” I replied, not having the patience in me to play this game. Stalling wasn’t going to change a damn thing.
He cleared his throat while I held eye contact with Patrick, wondering why it was my phone that rang before his, seeing the fear in the swirl of different blues in his eyes and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to take the fear away.