Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“It’s not the same anymore,” he murmurs against my neck.
His stubble tickles my skin and I grin. This has been the best day ever. We took off for my family’s old cabin by the lake for some privacy. We’ve been munching on cupcakes while in our own world.
If you ask me, Trev didn’t want me around the other guys while I was in this bikini. As soon as we surfaced from the lake, he wrapped me in his shirt he had tossed and kept me at his side, only leaving me to take a call and grab the cooler from his truck.
“You love football,” I say thoughtfully.
He lifts his fingertips to my temple and trails my hairline. I shiver beneath his whisper-soft touch, causing a smile to tug at his lips. I had thought we were coming here to make out.
However, this has been anything but a make-out session. There have only been the soft brushes of his lips to my shoulder or a few stolen kisses here and there. I narrow my eyes as his thoughts play on his face.
Silently, I give him time to find his words while I stare at his handsome features. Tugging his shirt, which I still have on, up my bare shoulder, I then turn my face into the collar to inhale.
The scent of his cologne fills my nostrils. It engulfs me in all things Trevor. He always smells so good. He catches me and his blues light with amusement. That gorgeous smile of his turns up a notch.
“I did love it. I mean, I still do,” he says. “But I don’t know if I’m cut out to put my heart in it. Daddy would go wild if I played professionally, but that’s not me. I can see it for Brad.
“He’s only ten, but he has it, he’ll go the distance. I won’t. One more year and I’m done.”
“I can absolutely see Brad in the NFL. Does he still sleep with his football?” I laugh.
“Yeah, he does. I love that kid,” he says, his eyes going distant for a moment. “That’s the thing. I’m missing my family. This is only college. What if I enter the league?” He shakes his head.
He puckers his lips for a minute in thought, then continues. “The twins are growing up without me. They were seven when I went away for college. I thought I needed to get away. Now, I regret it. Sometimes, I feel like I’m a horrible big brother.”
“Lies, Trevor Monroe. You’re the best big brother there is.” My Texas twang rings in my own ears.
Trevor reaches out to push his shirt back down my shoulder. He leans in to kiss the patch of skin he just exposed. I feel the blush in my cheeks. I drop my head when he lifts his to look me in the eyes again.
I turn my gaze to the tray before me for a distraction. I look longingly at the last cupcake. Trevor picks it up while chuckling. He peels the paper back and places the deliciousness to my lips. I beam at him before I open up to take a bite, moaning around the gooey morsel.
These cupcakes are our favorite. I came up with the recipe by accident. The salted caramel and truffle icing makes your mouth sing. The smooth yellow cake with truffle bites is the perfect pairing for the moist treat.
“I’m hoping you don’t still see me like a big brother. That might be a little awkward.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you as a big brother in a very, very long time,” I reply and lower my lashes.
I lean in and take another bite. He keeps his eyes on me, a thoughtful expression painted on his face. I ponder his words. I once thought he’d take football all the way. He’s always been a great player.
It’s been a dream of mine to sing at his Super Bowl game at halftime. In my head, we’d be the ultimate power couple. I’d sing and bring the crowd to their feet, and he’d score the game-winning touchdown.
“It’s funny how things can change,” I think out loud. Taking the rest of the cupcake from his fingers, I smile and hold it to his lips.
“You’re giving me the last bite?” He lifts a golden brow. “Yeah, things have changed.”
He chuckles but quickly takes a bite from the offering between my fingertips. He brushes my skin with his lips and tongue in the process. I bite back a moan and smile as I stare into his eyes.
“I’ve shared my cupcakes with you since the third grade. Nothing’s changed.” I laugh.
“That’s true, but you’ve never given me the last bite,” he replies.
“Point taken. I can fix that.” I go to pull the last of the cupcake back.
He plucks it from my hand, placing the cake between his lips, beckoning me forward with the crook of his finger. His eyes sparkle with the silent command. I lean in to bite the sweet delight hanging from his lips.