Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
There was so much distance between us now.
I ached from the separation.
His thumbs began moving in circles, rubbing over my skin. “It hit me one day. You loved your mom. She died. You loved your brother. Died. Your friend, dead. Was it just them, baby? Were they the only ones you loved and lost? Were there more?”
No… I needed out.
I needed to be away.
I began to twist, but Brett caught my hands and pulled on them. “Hey.”
My eyes went back to him. And at the mere look, he had captured me. I couldn’t pull away anymore. That wish was leaving me as quick as it came.
He drew one of my fingers into his mouth, sucking it deep before pulling it back out of him. He watched me all the while, that darkness flaring bright to me. “I’m not angry you told me, Billie. I’m angry you said it as an afterthought. I’m angry you said it in a text. I’m angry you sent me that text when I was in a room with fifteen other football players and I couldn’t leave to strip you of your clothing and show you how I feel.”
Had I—had I heard that right?
My heart was pumping so loud, so fast.
Had he just said… “Wait.” I tried to sit up but couldn’t because of how he was holding my legs in place. I collapsed down again on my back. “What are you saying?”
His hands went to my panties, and he simply tore them off. His hand moved to my pussy and he dipped in a finger.
Oh, God. I couldn’t think when he was doing that to me.
He dipped a second one in, both sliding as deep as he could go, and he pressed down on my clit at the same time.
Or when he was doing that.
“Brett,” I said.
He continued as if I hadn’t said a word, both his fingers starting a smooth rhythm in and out of me, “I had already prepared myself. You don’t know that, but I thought that since you weren’t letting your family past those last walls, that you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself love. Maybe that’s why you love those chickens so much.”
Oh. Miss Sylvia Rivera. My heart clenched.
He kept on, his fingers too, “So you see, Little Billie.” He pulled his fingers out, ignoring my pained protest, and he began undressing himself. His shirt. His pants. Everything else. And he bent over me, unsnapping my bra and moving back in place between my legs. One of his hands went to the inside of my thigh, pushing it wider, giving him better access.
I was soaking the bed. My need was dripping out of me.
His other hand went to his cock. He gave it a couple short strokes and then lined it up at my pussy.
He held my gaze. “I had prepared myself to go through life being okay that you wouldn’t love me. But then you told me in a text, and you can’t take that away. Even if you want to. Even if you regret saying it. I won’t let you. You love me. I’m taking it. It’s mine, just like you’re mine, because I love you too.”
He shoved inside, and I cried out, my body instantly arching from the sensation of him finally being inside me, but it was him. His words. The frenzy he had created, stoking it, poking it, turning it over, adding the right caress, the right gaze, the right word until I was absolutely fucking dripping for him and he was inside me, and he’d told me he loved me, and I loved him, and it was too much for me.
“Brett!” I screamed, ripping myself out of his hands and jerking up to wrap my legs and arms around him, and he groaned, his hands picking me up from under my ass. He moved me farther up the bed, laying me down, coming down with me since I was in a ball, twisted around him, and he began shoving inside me.
Fucking me.
“God, baby. I love you,” he whispered, peppering me with feathered kisses to my forehead. My face. His lips falling to my mouth and opening over me, his tongue taking over the whole of me, sliding inside there as well.
We moved together.
He loved me.
I was riding the wave of that.
I couldn’t believe he loved me.
“I do. Believe it.” He pressed hot kisses to my throat. Gripping me harder as he sank back into me. He never stopped. “I fell the second your face lit up talking about that damn chicken. A hen. I wanted you the second I saw you. Wanted to fuck you, was making plans to make that happen even before you tripped in front of that camera. Then I touched you, and I sizzled, baby. Fucking burned from just that one connection. By the time your interview was done, I was almost obsessed. Then you started talking about chickens in that elevator and whatever that’s inside you, that falls when you fall in love, that happened. A piece of me broke off and fell at my feet, a goddamn chunk. That was you. That part of me had your name on it.