Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Drew: Hold on. How do I know this is you?
Brooke: This pic makes my Surf Angel chest flutter.
Drew: Excellent. Let me do another test. Another word for car.
Brooke: You want a McLaren.
Drew: Boat.
Brooke: Yacht. Like your innuendo.
Drew: One more. Another word for shoe?
Brooke: The heels I wore last night. They were black. You wanted them on your shoulders, around your waist, up in the air. Do you believe it’s me now?
Drew: A picture is worth a thousand words.
Brooke: If you insist.
Thirty seconds later, a pic lands on my phone, shot from the thighs down. She’s wearing a skirt that shows her bare legs, and black heels. Oh Lord have mercy. I want to march over to her office, slam the door, kneel between those creamy thighs, and make her lose her mind with my tongue.
Drew: I’m on my way.
Drew: Just kidding.
Drew: But holy fuck, woman. Your legs should be worshipped. Adored. Kissed. Cherished.
Drew: And then spread wide open so I can spend the afternoon between them.
Brooke: I will never get any work done now.
Nor will I when she sends me another pic. She’s hiked up her skirt, and I can just make out the edge of her white lacy panties. I groan, then I take care of business.
A few minutes later, I reply.
Drew: Thought of you the whole time.
Brooke: I’ll think of you tonight in bed.
I can’t stop. I just can’t. When I head to an afternoon practice, I text her some more.
Carter was right. Sometimes you just know.
11
YOUR MOUTH ON MY INNUENDO
Drew
Resisting becomes a bit easier when the season starts the next week. The first game is at home, and we play like a well-oiled machine. I put the team ahead in the second quarter with a forty-yard pass to Clements, who turns that into an absolutely beautiful touchdown.
The crowd goes wild, and the sound of their cheers is such a high. When Clements chest-bumps me on the sidelines, we’re both grinning like fools. It’s early in the game, but it feels so damn good.
“Nice work, man,” I say.
Gabe does a little dance, flexing his biceps. “Told you I’d get it in the end zone. You get it to me, and I’ll bust my ass to put that ball where it belongs.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say as he kneels and hunts for something under the bench.
When he pops up, he tosses me a red hacky sack. I catch it easily.
“Adams, use your foot,” he says, and I hide a smile that he’s graduated me to last name familiarity.
“I thought that was your pre-game ritual,” I say, pointing out the flaw in his ritual logic.
“Gotta be flexible. Hasn’t football taught you anything? I just changed the play. Hacky sack is now our in-game ritual too,” he says, then drops the bag toward the ground, kicking it my way with his instep.
When in Rome…
I kick it back.
Maybe he’s right about his rituals. They do seem to keep him one hundred ten percent focused. He nails another catch in the third, and our running back, Rand, drives it home on first down.
We finish with a twenty-four to fourteen victory, and it’s both a thrill and a relief. After my last year of uncertainty with the Devil Sharks and their payroll slashing, and given the Mercenaries’ hot mess of a season, the tight game play is all anyone could ask for, the coach included.
“You’re looking good, Adams. Keep it up,” he says, his voice gruff. It’s always gruff—he’s such a coach.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
After I chat with a sideline reporter, I jog over to the fifty-yard line, beaming when I find my faves in the stands in the seats I snagged for Mom, Mira, Sophie, and Tom.
“Hey, Mom. What did you think?” I say, asking the question I’ve asked her after every game I’ve played.
“Loved your focus,” she says as she gives me a big hug.
“Any tips?” I ask. That’s part of our routine too.
She laughs. “There was less traffic on the way to this stadium, so my tip is keep playing well so we can keep coming here.”
“I’ll second that,” Tom says, then drops a kiss to Mom’s forehead. That guy really loves her. It’s so good to see.
“Also, the popcorn here is really good,” impish Sophie remarks, and I lift her up and onto the field, giving her a big hug.
“I told them to make it special for you,” I say.
“I like the pretzels better,” Mira weighs in, not to be outdone.
I grab her, hoisting her into my other arm. “Because I said the doubles need the best snacks.”
Sophie raises a doubtful brow. “I don’t think you did that.” She’s all stern and serious.
I nod, big and long, staring up at her. “Sure did.”
Then Mira nods toward the field. “Can we play now?”
“Maybe later. The grounds crew need to do their magic to the field, but I can take you out for ice cream if Mom says yes.”