Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Wet.
Wanton.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and I hope it leaves a mark behind.
My lungs are tight.
My chest aches.
God, I love when she trembles. That little stutter at the back of her throat—
Eyes glossy.
Mouth parted.
I swear she’s never looked more beautiful.
Is this what falling in love is like?
Am I already there?
She’s going to choose her brother and dump me, and I will never recover from it because I’ve never felt this exposed.
I’m going to ruin this.
Or she is.
Or her brother.
One of us will crack first.
If she tells me this was a mistake, I won’t just be heartbroken—I’ll be shattered.
And I won’t even blame her.
I’ll blame myself.
For wanting more.
For getting greedy.
For falling in love with a girl I was never supposed to touch.
God, I am so totally, irreversibly, undeniably…
Fucked.
27
nova
We’re out in public.
Can you believe it?
Our third outing—third date—if you can call it that.
The place is loud and buzzing—the good kind of loud, the kind that makes your ears hum with energy instead of ache. It’s a fancy steakhouse but surprisingly it's packed to the walls with people wearing Baddies jerseys and hoodies.
Cars outside are honking, celebrating the teams’ win long after the game came to an end.
Luca’s hair is still damp from his post-game shower, mostly hidden beneath a black ball cap pulled low over his brow—clearly an attempt to be less recognizable. He’s wearing a fitted, black thermal shirt that hugs his chest and arms, and I can’t stop staring…
So handsome.
So unaware of the way he looks right now.
We’re seated at the bar while waiting for a table, elbows brushing on the slick surface, our drinks sweating in front of us. My margarita has too much salt on the rim, but I lick it anyway and try not to stare at his mouth.
Yum.
"You want another one of those?" Luca nods at my drink. "Or are you just gonna keep licking the glass like that to make my dick hard. Because it’s working.”
I twirl the straw. "Maybe both?"
He shakes his head, clearly amused. "Can’t take you anywhere."
I grin into my glass, pretending not to notice the way his thigh presses against mine under the bar.
His smirk is slow and lethal when he drops his hand casually to my knee beneath the counter. Squeezes.
Not obviously—just the lightest touch, testing how far he can go. His thumb strokes a slow circle, and I have to take a deep breath to keep from sliding his hand between my thighs.
“We could leave,” he offers optimistically. “Slip out the back, have sex in the back seat of my car.”
The bartender appears with a bowl of bar mix snacks, saving me from having to formulate a witty response. I thank her and shoot Luca a death glare that’s entirely fake, because my insides are absolutely not chill.
I pop a pretzel into my mouth and chew.
His fingers are still on my leg.
So far, no one’s recognized him—not that he’s making it easy to stay incognito. He’s doing that athlete thing where he tries to blend in. Shrink himself. But his body, voice, energy—they’re impossible to miss.
Especially when he’s got one hand on me and the other stealing the saltiest chips from the bowl, shoving them in his mouth three at a time.
“Behave,” I murmur, resting my hand on top of his, stilling the slow ascent of his fingers up my thigh.
He smells like his post-game shower—clean and warm, with a hint of whatever body wash he uses—makes me want to drag my nose along his throat. Suck on his neck.
Lick him.
But we’re here to celebrate.
Taking a chance.
A risk, if you will…
I take another sip of my drink and try to redirect my perverted thoughts but it’s no use.
He shifts again, bumping my knee. Our elbows touch. Our thighs press together.
Every single point of contact causes me to tingle…
Cool it, Nova—you’re in public.
As if I need to keep reminding myself, my nerves are doing a good enough job. I’m on edge, waiting for someone to see us.
A fan.
A teammate.
I don’t know—the media?
“Relax.” Luca reads my mind, trying to put my mind at ease. “We’re twenty minutes outside of town.”
Correct.
Near Austin and Gio’s new place in suburbia.
I’m half-expecting him to lean in and whisper something dirty again, but instead, he sits back a little, sipping his water like he’s not responsible for the hormonal circus inside my body.
“You know that second goal tonight?” he says, glancing at me, like we’re just two friends having a chill, totally platonic chat at the bar.
I blink, dragging my thoughts away from his thighs and back to his face. “Uh, yeah?”
“I only pulled that off because Skaggs faked right at the last second,” he continues, eyes lighting up. “It opened the lane, and I knew if I didn’t capitalize, he’d never let me hear the end of it.”
He’s passionate. Animated. He loves this game so much it pours out of him when he talks, and I find myself listening harder, hanging on his every word.