Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“And who’s really trying to know what he does when you’re being eaten out on the table?” Austen asks, and I nod eagerly.
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking at that point.” I can’t stop grinning, but then I wonder if my peepaw will have an issue. After Austen, surely he learned his lesson. “I should probably tell Peepaw.”
Austen grimaces, and I know it’s because she’s still not talking to our grandfather. He tried to keep Dimitri from going into the NHL, all because he was involved with Austen. Peepaw wanted to separate them so that Austen couldn’t get hurt. It’s the reason Austen is in Nashville—not only for Dimitri, but because she wanted to work there instead of for our peepaw. After that, he realized that he didn’t want us involved in his business, but somehow Elliot snuck in to do social media for the team. I’m not sure how he’ll feel that I’m seeing Ciaran.
If that’s what I’m doing.
“Or maybe not since this is eight hours old and I don’t even know if he’ll call.”
Elliot nods. “Just wait a bit. See what happens.”
“Don’t want to rush it,” Clara offers.
“And I know the sex was good, Lou. But maybe figure out if you like him outside of the bedroom or table or chair or wherever else you guys decided to defile,” Eliza jokes.
“I do like him,” I say, though I don’t know if I’m being honest. We talked and we laughed, but we were mostly naked. What if it’s different when we’re clothed?
“Just be careful,” Austen tells me. “I can tell you’re smitten.”
I shrug, feeling silly as they all watch me. I know they aren’t judging me or even thinking ill of me, but I can’t help feeling a bit of embarrassment. I don’t know Ciaran. I only know that I love what he does to my body, and I enjoy doing those things to him. I know that there is something inside me that wants him. An invisible string that neither of us can see, but I can feel, drawing me to him.
Does he feel it? I don’t know, but damn if I don’t hope so.
CHAPTER 18
Ciaran
I didn’t call Louisa last night, and she didn’t call or text me.
I hate how thankful I am for that. I didn’t sleep; all I did was toss and turn with her on my mind. I picked up my phone more times than I care to admit, because I wanted to hear her voice. Listen to her laugh and that damn breathy sigh she makes. I wanted to hear my name on her lips. I wanted… I want her.
I swallow hard, the nervousness eating away at me as I look out at the press gathered in the room. Today is supposed to be a good day, but I feel guilty for not reaching out last night. I feel like I’m being just like those fuckers who hurt Louisa before, the poor excuses for men she has been subjected to. But I know I’m not that guy. I’m just struggling, and I swear I know if I go to her with my concerns, they’ll disappear once her multicolored eyes meet mine. Which is the reason for my distance. I need to think. I need to decide what I am doing, because she’s not just some girl I can fuck and ignore. She’s the kind that can get under my skin, wiggle her way into my heart, and belong there for the rest of my existence and beyond.
It’s terrifying.
Beside me, Cruz stands, as does the rest of the team. We are all dressed in our game-day suits, all imposing and massive. I’m proud of these men. We are working for our dreams. But my mind isn’t even here. It’s back in the shop, Louisa in my chair, her most delectable bits on display for all my desires to be fulfilled. I’d make her laugh. I’d make her scream. I’d make her mine. Shit, I should have called. But to say what?
I had a great time, but I could fall for you and then I’d be fucked when you broke up with me because you found someone else. Or because I’m going to make it to the NHL. Maybe you just want to fuck without feelings?
But that would be a lie. I can’t just fuck her. I’m already craving the intimacy only she can give me. That sigh, that laugh, those eyes. More. God, I want all of her. I groan inwardly, running my hands along my face, wishing I were anywhere but here.
Wishing that when I looked out into the crowd, I saw her face.
Damn it all to hell.
“You good, dude?”
I look over to meet Cruz’s concerned gaze. I’m always so taken back by his suited form. He looks professional, but more like a mob boss than a goalie. Like me, Cruz is super tall, built like an ox. But unlike me, his whole torso and neck are covered in tattoos.