Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes,” I say immediately, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt as he slips the ring onto my finger. He stands, and I throw myself into his arms, clinging to him. “I love you,” I say in a rush before I crush my mouth to kiss, kissing him with all the passion he just talked about.
Isaac scoops me up off my feet, and I wrap my legs around his waist instantly. “I love you, little brat. Mine. All mine,” Isaac says as he trails kisses down my neck, making me squirm in his arms.
“Yours. Forever,” I moan, tearing him out of his clothes as he walks us back to the huge bed.
“I want to fuck you with nothing but that ring on,” Isaac moans, and I nod, absolutely on board with that idea.
He kisses me again as we throw our clothes on the floor, and when there’s nothing on me but my shiny ring, he proves just how much he owns me—heart and body.
EPILOGUE
ISAAC
Three Months Later
My girl dominates the field, the roar of the crowd behind me fuelling her as she dodges an attempted tackle and races down the pitch. Like every day since I met her, I can’t take my eyes off her.
This is the game we’ve been prepping for all season. The championships that would be the crowning jewel of Iris’ glowing college soccer career. With only ten minutes left in the game, we’re tied but the opposition is pushing hard to gain the advantage. They’re damn good, but we’re better.
My Iris is better.
I don’t have to hide the fact I’m watching her now, not now when our relationship’s out in the open. After spring break, I had a meeting with the Dean and told him everything, not wanting my boss to hear it from someone else. While he did warn me that I couldn’t be seen to show favoritism or conduct unprofessional behavior on campus, he agreed that there was nothing in my contract strictly preventing it. He was hardly thrilled but reluctantly accepting, and that was all I needed.
I hold my breath as Iris rushes forward, agile and quick, determination written in her every movement. Five minutes left. My breath gets stuck in my throat, and I push to my feet, unable to sit still. Not wanting to distract her, I force myself not to shout out encouragement, instead watching as she takes her shot, shooting the ball towards the goal.
The goalie dives as the ball flies through the air. I swear, the crowd holds their breath with me as the goalie’s hand skims the side of the ball. And misses. The ball hits the back of the net, and cheers explode through the air.
She did it.
She won.
“THAT’S MY GIRL!” I shout, unable to keep quiet a second longer. Pride soars through me as I watch her throw her arms up in victory, her team crowding around her as they scream and cheer.
I rush the field with the others, and the team lets me through, giving me a path to Iris.
“I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!” I tell them all as I get to Iris.
“WE WON!” she shouts, leaping at me with excitement.
I catch her easily, the team bumping us from all sides with shrieks of excitement.
“You won, baby,” I whisper into her ear, quiet enough that nobody else will hear. The entire team did me proud, but nobody else could have pulled off that goal but Iris. She won the game for them, and she deserves to be praised for it.
I lift her up, Georgia finding my side and offering her shoulder so Iris can sit on us, held up like a trophy. The crowd cheers her name, her family and friends going wild in the stands, and I wrap my arm around her thighs to steady her as she tips her head back and whoops with excitement.
“We’re champions!” she shouts to the team, who answer with another round of cheers.
Finally, Georgia and I set her down, and the team collects their trophy, posing for photos.
I watch from the side, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Hey, Coach!” Iris’ voice calls, surprising me. “Get over here, get in the photos!”
I step closer but shake my head. “This is your win, not mine,” I tell her and the team.
“We couldn’t have done it without you!” another player insists, and the others agree. So when Iris jogs out and grabs my arm, pulling me into the throng, I let her. For the first time since my injury, I feel that rush again—the rush of being part of a team, part of a win, the rush of the game.
Iris has given me so much, and when I glance over to her, I hope she sees just how much I love her in my gaze.