Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
He keeps moving in and out of me, slower now, and once we’ve both recovered and spent, he slumps on top of me.
We’re both covered in sweat, I’m covered in cum, but we lie there silently. I stroke his back, and he breathes hard.
That was … perfect. Levi is perfect.
When he lifts up and checks to see if I’m okay, I smile.
“More than okay. How can I not be when I have you? You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted until I had you. Now I never want to let you go.”
“Then don’t,” Levi whispers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
levi
I thought the energy of a game was high. It’s nothing compared to being backstage for the draft. I’m seated next to Brady while Peyton and his dads mingle with players and families from other colleges waiting for this to start.
And here I am, seemingly the only one who’s nervous again. How is that possible when this is the biggest night of Peyton’s career thus far?
But then Peyton glances over at me, and even the expensive bright blue suit that makes his eyes pop isn’t enough to hide the quiver in his confident smile. It’s almost invisible, but I notice.
So does Brady. “I’m going to laugh so hard if he pukes onstage.”
“You’re the worst brother ever.”
“Right?” It’s not surprising Brady wears that title like a badge of honor because we both know—and Peyton certainly knows—that Brady and Peyton are closer than brothers. It’s like they’re best friends, brothers, and hell, they might even be closer to each other’s perfect half than I am with Peyton.
People might think that’s weird, but for them, it makes sense. I know they come as a package deal, so for Brady to give us his blessing, it’s a big thing for Peyton.
And I swear it only has half to do with me knowing about Brady’s secret rendezvous with men—plural.
“Be honest. Where are you hoping for?” Brady asks.
“I have vowed to follow Peyton wherever he lands, so I do not have a preference.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, fine. I really, really, really want him to be picked second because Florida sounds so much warmer than Detroit.”
Brady laughs. “Understandable. Don’t tell Pey I said this, but I hope you get your wish.”
“His wish for what?” Peyton drops down beside me and looks at his brother through narrowed eyes.
“My wish that you’re drafted first. Duh.”
“Bullshit. You want to move to Detroit?”
How do I put this as nicely as possible? “Fuck no. But I would. For you.”
Peyton leans over and kisses the top of my head just as the show starts.
Finally, Peyton and his family match me on the nerve scale. We’re all jittery and antsy but trying to push through it.
We all hold our breaths as they get ready to read the first name out.
“The first pick in this year’s NFL draft, Detroit picks Derek Gardner.”
My relief is quick as I squeeze Peyton’s leg. Talon claps Peyton’s back. He didn’t get first, but that’s all right.
“You okay?” I ask quietly before they call out the next name.
He nods. “A ton of pressure was just lifted off my shoulders.”
For me, that would be a relief, but I know Peyton loves that kind of thing.
I squeeze his leg again and hope with all hope that Florida chooses him.
They don’t.
Fuck.
“Is this because of us?” I ask him softly.
He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Nah. Neither of them are QBs. It’s still all good. I swear.”
Yet I see the small disappointment in his gaze anyway.
We were all so confident that he’d be first or second that I can’t even remember which team is next in line.
The announcer’s voice cuts through the din. “The third pick in this year’s NFL draft, Arizona picks Peyton Miller, Franklin University.”
Thank fuck it’s not somewhere cold.
Peyton looks ecstatic as we all stand and hug him. And as he leaves us to go onstage to collect his commemorative jersey and interview off to the side, I look around at Peyton’s parents and his brother.
“We’re happy, right?” I know they were hoping for first. Especially Talon. So Brady and Miller wait for his response to my question.
“Third overall pick?” Talon says. “Fuck yeah, we’re happy.” He puts his arm around Miller and kisses his cheek.
“This’ll be the farthest we’ve ever been away from each other,” Brady says.
He’s moving to New York after graduation next month to take up a paid internship with King Sports while getting his law degree.
I wrap him in a hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to keep an eye on him.”
“Yeah, but who’s going to keep an eye on me?” he jokes.
“Your uncles,” Talon says.
“Oh, right. Them. All billion of them.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I recently found out football season is only five months. And that’s if the team goes all the way to the end. We will have so much time to catch up.”