Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Like a fuck buddy situation?”
God, I want to hold onto anything he’s willing to give me, but I don’t think my heart could take it. “Like a we’re always going to be friends type situation.”
“Friends.” He practically gags on the word, and I don’t blame him.
“We knew this had an expiration date. Now we know when it is.”
“Training camp’s in a few weeks. I need to be in Chicago before that to find a place to live, and—”
“Maybe I can help you find a place.” I hold my breath, preparing for him to cut ties right here and now.
“You’d … you’d come to Chicago?”
The second you asked me to.
That’s not what I say, though. “This started out as doing each other a favor, but I can honestly say you know me better than anyone else in my life. I’ll help you get settled in Chicago any way I can, and I’ll always be here for you.”
“Right. Settled.” Matt tries to step back, but I don’t let him.
“Babe,” I murmur. “I still have the right to call you that a while longer, and I don’t want this to end on a bad note.”
He stiffens as my arms snake around him and I bury my head in his neck.
There’s so many unspoken words between us, but we’re both too chickenshit to bring them up.
“I want you to know you’re important to me.”
Matt’s hands wander down my back. “Be with me,” he whispers.
I wonder if he realizes how that sounds, but before I can ask him to, he clarifies.
“I don’t want to wait anymore. I wanted you to fuck me the day I met you, and—”
“Liar,” I say with a chuckle.
“Okay, fine. Like a week after I met you and you let me past all your bullshit. But that doesn’t change the fact I want you inside me.”
I groan. “Matt—”
“If you can’t give me anything else, give me this.”
I want to give him everything, but he’s right. I can’t give him more than physical connection.
It’s not lost on me that I had nearly this exact conversation with Aron not too long ago. Only, with Matt respecting my wishes and honoring our deal, I want nothing more than to scream at him to fight for more.
My resolve is on a thin ledge, begging to jump. I want to fall, and I want a life with Matt, but our situation is impossible.
My lips trail soft kisses from the bottom of his ear and down his neck, as my hands move over his back and down to his ass.
“Noah.” His voice is like a tortured moan, and it throws me off my game.
This needs to be about sex, but the whole goodbye thing is getting in the way. There’s a difference between knowing it’s going to end and staring at the finish line.
Each day, that line will get closer and closer, and I know I won’t be ready for it.
Words like “stay” threaten to fall outta my mouth, but I won’t do that to him. I can’t do it to him. I can’t ask him to give up his dream for me.
I never thought I’d let anyone crush me the way Nathaniel did ever again. Yet, here I am with another broken heart. I don’t know how it got this far. One minute we’re fucking, and the next I’m caring. I don’t do this. This isn’t me. I can’t have relationships, so I don’t get attached.
What’s so good about Matt—not Matthew—Jackson anyway?
His tongue teases my lips, and then I remember. Oh, right. His mouth, for one answer.
But he’s so much more than that. I should’ve known to run away as soon as I started to care.
So, about twenty-four hours after meeting him?
Shit. If I really think about it, everything I did for him on that cruise, it wasn’t because I felt empathy toward him. It wasn’t because I felt sorry for him. It’s because the moment we met, I knew he was mine to protect.
This has been screwed since the very beginning. And now I’m here, saying goodbye to another man who has no issues breaking me.
“Noah,” Matt whispers again.
“I’m here, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Matt
“Let me take care of you,” Noah whispers against my skin.
Ask me to stay. Want me to stay. Don’t turn this into goodbye.
When Noah’s mouth is on me, football seems like a waste. I’m ready to throw it all away for the man standing in front of me, but he refuses to even contemplate it.
One reason. That’s all I need. One reason to stay. He can’t even give me that.
So, instead of calling him on his shit because I promised I never would, I let him devour me, touch me, love on me instead of love all of me.
His fingers slowly unbutton my pants, and I can’t catch my breath.
“Hurry,” I say.
“Gotta go slow. Make it good.”