Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
There is a liquor for every drink you could possibly conjure up, I’m sure. Two guys rush past me, almost running into me and out the French doors, leading into the back yard. A football whiz’s past my head, and one of them catches it, giving me a wink.
I shake my head because I’ve seen that face before.
It’s plastered on every North Woods University football flyer.
It’s spoken in whispers and moaned by more women at this school than I care to know.
Cage Wilder. The infamous playboy and football god. A total and complete jock through and through. Guys like him are all about using their good looks, charm, and the fact that they can run and catch a ball to their advantage.
Men like Cage remind me of every man my mom has ever been with. Selfish and too focus on themselves to care about anyone else.
Jesus. I need to stop being so judgmental. Guilt festers in my gut. I feel like an asshole now, even if what I’m thinking is true. I’m just about to turn around and leave when a brunette in a denim skirt and belly shirt runs into me. Her eyes are painted with silver glitter and bloodshot. Her lips are red, and when they pull up into a half-smile, she flashes me white teeth.
“Can you hold this for me?” she slurs, shoving her red glass into my hand. I blink, taking it without even thinking. I mean, it’s either take it or let it fall to the floor, and that would be kind of rude.
She walks past me on unsteady feet, and I shake my head as she disappears, walking into the living room.
“Okay then,” I say under my breath.
Turning back around, I see a head of auburn hair bobbing through the throng of people outside. There’s only dim lighting out there, so it’s hard to make out if that’s Arabella or someone else, but it’s the first sight of someone that looks like her that I’ve had all night. Rushing out the patio doors, I look out onto the lawn. The cold air kisses my cheeks, and I shiver. There are more people in the backyard than there were in the house. A few of them look toward me with curious expressions, while others don’t even blink at my presence.
The drink the chick gave me earlier is still in my hand, so I use my free one to tug out my cell phone. I type out another text to Arabella, even though she hasn’t answered my last two, and hit send. Looking up from my phone, I find the guys that were tossing the football standing in a small circle a few feet away.
All three of them are staring at me, each perfect in their own football frat kind of way, but it’s the one with midnight black hair and piercing green eyes that gets my heart racing. My brain tells my body not to react to this man’s presence, but my heart still thunders inside my chest.
Cage isn’t just gorgeous, he’s perfect. His body looks as if it’s been chiseled from stone, his jawline looks sharp enough to cut stone, and the only imperfection is his nose, which has a slight crook. He looks like he should be gracing the cover of GQ magazine, not playing football at NWU.
It’s obvious he’s an athlete. Tall, huge, with a frame that could fill up a room. His muscles are toned, his biceps bulge beneath his shirt. He doesn’t wear anything special: a pair of jeans and a long sleeve dark blue Henley.
He’s nothing special, gorgeous, yes, but nothing worth giving up the world for, and still, to most girls, he’s considered a god. To me, he’s nothing but a jock.
Cage’s eyes pierce mine, seeking me out, testing the waters. I grit my teeth and shove my phone back into my pocket, ignoring him altogether. Ignoring the racing of my heart in my chest as well.
Giving his friends a smirk, he walks over to me, walks isn’t the correct word. More like saunters. He oozes confidence and shows off his dazzling smile, which I’m sure makes all the girls lose their minds. Not this one.
“You look a little lost.” He chuckles. His voice is deep and has a timber that could easily mesmerize you if you sat and listened to it long enough.
“I’m fine,” I mutter and adjust my glasses on my face. He moves closer, leaving only a few feet of distance between us.
“Are you looking for someone?” A cocky grin pulls at his firm lips.
I breathe deeply through my nose and will my heart to stop beating so wildly. It doesn’t help, though, because air isn’t the only thing that fills my nostrils. His manly, heady scent follows too. Jesus Christ, he smells like spice and cinnamon. Like a rich liquor that you know will leave you feeling warm all over.