Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“What if?” He tosses out at me. “What if, Grant?”
“I don’t know,” I say, raising my voice. “That’s my point. What if?”
“You think I’m gonna smack you on the ass, pull out my dick, and walk off?”
I suppose a part of me did. Isn’t that what people do sometimes? Just leave you in the lurch?
“I hope not,” I admit.
Declan runs his hand down my chest. “I don’t need it to be perfect. You and me, we’re not making porn. We’re not trying to turn everyone else on. You’re the only one I want to make feel good.”
Now I am hot all over. But this heat rushing through me is so much more than physical. “I want it to be good for you, Declan.”
“It will be. It’s already better than it’s been before. Want to know why?”
“Tell me,” I say, heart skittering.
“Since we’re talking about it.”
“You do like to talk,” I tease.
“Talking is hot,” he says.
“And you said you weren’t chatty,” I say, getting my confidence back. “You are so chatty.”
“What can I say? I’m different with you,” Declan says, and my chest glows from those last four words. Four perfect words. I’m different with you.
“Are you?” I ask, hoping it’s not patently obvious how much I like what he’s saying.
“Seems I am. And that’s why I want you to know that it’s just you and me in bed,” he says, tapping my chest, then his. “We set the pace. We don’t have to please an audience. We can just make it good for each other.”
“It’s gonna be good,” I say, the corner of my lips curving into a grin. “I just know it. Gut feeling. I won’t be wrong.”
“Cocky, and I like it. But it might hurt. Just tell me if it does, okay? We can adjust.”
It’s cool that Declan is so caring, but I’ve got this.
“I will, but you know I’m a catcher, right? I’m bruised all over. Every game, I catch more than a hundred baseballs flying at me like rockets. Sometimes I catch them with my knees. I play and live with pain,” I say. “It is literally part of my job.”
“Show off.” Declan laughs, his head falling back into the pillow, his fingers sliding through his hair. “And you know how to crouch for hours too, rookie. So, you can just ride me all night.” Then he lets the laughter fade as he reaches for me, pulls me closer so I’m looking down at him. “All I’m saying is, for all your rough-and-tumble, badass baseball-is-life attitude, sex might be awkward. It might be . . . uncomfortable. But if you tell me how you’re feeling, I’ll do everything I can to make it good for you.” He takes a pause as his gaze bores into mine, vulnerability flashing in his brown irises. “And you can do the same for me the next night when you top me. Deal?”
Best deal ever. “I’m good with that.”
Then he hauls me in for another kiss. Proving what he said earlier. How much he loves kissing me. I can feel it in his lips on mine. In his hands sliding down my back. In the murmurs he makes.
And when we break the kiss, I serve up another piece of my insides to him. “I kinda had a crush on you before I met you.”
His brow rises. “That so?”
“Yeah, you were hot and talented.”
“And am I living up to it? To your crush?”
I stroke my chin, considering. Then shrug a shoulder ever so casually. “Ask me tomorrow night.”
Declan laughs deeply. “Fair enough, rookie. Fair enough.” He glances at the door, but he doesn’t bother to get out of bed, or to check the peephole. He just shoots me a we’re-in-this-together look. “I should stay till the middle of the night,” he says.
“You should.”
“Then, I will.”
Here we go, doing it again, curling up together, his arm draped around me.
Only this time it feels completely intentional.
From both of us.
27
Declan
Emma lifts her golf club, waggles her hips, and stares down the range the next day. “Mark my words, gentlemen. I’m going to hit the one-hundred-yard sign,” she declares.
“Next stop PGA tour,” Fitz announces from his spot next to his sister.
“Don’t bet against me,” she says, then takes aim at the little white ball, whacking the hell out of it. It soars, arcing over the grass at the driving range, then flying high before it lands smack underneath the one-hundred-yard sign.
My eyes bug out. “Whoa. Have you been holding out on me? I didn’t know you were a golf prodigy.”
Laughing, she polishes her nails on her shirt. “I didn’t either. Then I went to the driving range with a friend, and it turned out I was a natural.”
“A friend?” Fitz asks, as he lifts his five-iron. “Is this friend a boy?”
She rolls her blue eyes. “And what if he is?”