Only One Touch (Only One #4) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Only One Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
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“Where is your plate?” he asks.

“I’m going to get some salmon and some salad.” He looks over at me. “I just ran for two hours, you think I did that so I can eat carbs?” I turn to walk away and he grabs my arm, bringing me to him. His undoes the sash of my robe, his hand goes to my ass as he squeezes it.

“You’re more than okay,” he says and I look up at him. My mouth waters and it has nothing to do with the food waiting for me, no it’s all this man. I shake my head, walking away as he slaps my ass.

I make my own plate opting, still for the salad and the grilled salmon. I sit next to him as we eat. “I leave tomorrow,” he says from beside me, and I knew it was coming. “Team left today, and they play tomorrow.”

“Do you always travel with the team?” I ask, and he nods his head.

“I don’t really travel with the team, but I’m there for all their games. If they are travelling between games, depending on my schedule, I’ll go with them or meet them there,” he says, cutting into his steak.

“I leave in January for my tour,” I say, grabbing some salad. “And I, for one, hate it.”

“Your tour?” He looks over at me as I eat a piece of salmon.

“I go and meet the up and comings. See who I want to go after,” I say and he just looks at me. “What?”

“You actually go to all the games?” I nod at him.

“I also meet the parents and get a feel for them. I also lay down the law,” I say, picking up another piece.

“You lay down the law,” he repeats and I turn to him.

“My time is precious,” I say, crossing my legs, the robe falling on both sides. “I want them to know what I can do for them. But I also want them to know what I’m not going to put up with.”

He turns, pulling my chair closer to him as he opens his legs. “You work hard.” I don’t know if he’s telling me or asking me. “I didn’t call you today.”

“I know,” I say, not sure where this is going right now.

“It doesn’t bother you.” Again, I don’t know if he is asking me or telling me.

“I know that you’re busy,” I say. “And I know that if you have a minute you will call me.” I shrug. “Or maybe you won’t, but it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t sit down and wait for your call if that is what you are asking.” I smirk at him.

“I like you,” he says the words that makes me stop breathing. He raises his hand and is rubbing my cheek with his thumb. “Like I really, really like you.”

I laugh. “Well, if you are wondering, I like you, too,” I admit to him.

“There are so many things that I like about you,” he says, leaning in and kissing my lips. My hand comes out as I place my palm on his face. “But the thing I like most about you.”

“Oh,” I joke with him. “I know exactly what you like most about me.”

He laughs. “I do really like that, but what I was going to say.” He shakes his head. “Is that I don’t have to apologize for who I am.” I look at him, my eyebrows pinched together. “If I can’t call you, you aren’t going to hold a grudge. If I’m busy and can’t see you, you aren’t going to be pissed off.”

“I didn’t want to tell you this before,” I say. “But now that we’ve shared our like for each other.” Leaning in and kissing him. “I’m a great catch.”

“That you are.” He chuckles. “Now, finish eating so I can show you what else I like about you.” My head goes back, and I laugh hysterically, my robe falling open, and he takes the opportunity to slip his hand in. “Are you done eating?” he asks, and with his hands on me, the last thing I think about is eating.

“I brought you coffee.” I hear from the door the next morning while I run on the treadmill. I look at him dressed in his boxers and nothing else.

“You didn’t have to get up,” I say, slowly turning down the speed, coming down to a slight jog. “Did you sleep okay?” It’s the first time he’s slept over. It’s the first time I’ve ever had anyone sleep over at my house, unless they were family members.

“Your bed smells of flowers,” he says, sitting down on one of the chairs that I have in the gym area. “It smells like you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask, stopping the treadmill and getting off.


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