Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Paxton's eyes lock with mine, a silent question and challenge there. “I’m in,” he says with absolute confidence, glancing at Reese. “Will you keep the time?”
Reese smiles, nodding as she grabs her phone.
“Tell me when you start the clock,” he says, and I swear I feel those words like an electric shock over my skin.
Reese and Blakely do this cough-laugh thing that I do my best to ignore, especially as Reese clicks her phone and says go.
Paxton shifts closer to me, his hands reaching to cradle my face as he looks down at me to gauge my reaction. I tip my head in a clear, consensual submission, everything in my body going tight with anticipation.
His eyes flicker from mine to my lips and back again as he inches closer, and the crowd around us disappears as he slants his mouth over mine.
Everything fades in that moment—the game, the timer, the sounds of our friends gasping and cheering us on—it all narrows to the way his lips feel against mine.
My hands fly to his chest as he kisses me, my fingers gripping his shirt as I gasp between his lips. His mouth is warm and strong, every explorative kiss making fire lick up my spine. I draw him closer, needing more of his body touching mine, something unleashing inside me as he parts my lips, gliding his tongue against mine.
God, that feels good.
He tastes like the minty soda water he’s been drinking all night, and my mind whirls with the sensation of his kiss. He tips my head, kissing me at a deeper angle, making me go loose and tight at the same time. A pulsing ache radiates between my thighs, my heart taking flight with every sipping kiss he delivers.
I’ve never been kissed like this.
With such passion, such insight to what makes my heart race and my breath catch. It’s like Paxton has kissed me a thousand times and knows exactly how to set me ablaze.
In that moment, everything aligns—a need and a dream I’ve never truly allowed myself to explore. One with me and Paxton and nothing between us—no secrets, no hidden feelings, no fear of losing him.
It’s everything…he’s everything.
Each pass of his lips or sweep of his tongue has me winding up like a tight string about to snap—
“Time!” Reese says, snapping us both out of the kiss.
His eyes are on mine, molten and churning with something that screams that kiss was about more than just the game.
Or am I only seeing what I want to see?
The group around us is clapping and laughing, the sounds of the party around us coming back in a flash that has me blinking out of the luscious haze Paxton’s kiss put me under.
I blink a few times, grinning up at him before glancing at Blakely, then Reese who are both looking at me with shocked faces.
“I earned that card,” I say, eying the card in front of Paxton.
He laughs softly, nodding as he slides it in front of me. “You definitely earned that,” he says, his voice low between us, making warm shivers dance down my spine.
I do my best to quell the need in my voice while I read the next card, but it’s hard as hell to focus and enjoy the game.
After Pax’s earth-shattering kiss, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to function and act normal, let alone continue playing the game when all I can think about his how badly I want his lips back on mine.
Shit.
This is why I’ve never even contemplated crossing these lines with him before.
I’ve always known the second I did, there would be no going back.
CHAPTER 5
PAXTON
I finish assembling the last piece of the massage table I ordered last week, having somehow managed to sneak the giant box in without Monroe ever spotting it.
She’d been busy this past week traveling to her clients’ houses. Some of them were Badgers who hired her to help them with recovery from their workouts during the off-season, but some were non-athlete clients too. Either way, it’d given me a great opportunity to sneak all of this stuff in since I wanted to surprise her.
I gather up my tools, putting the screwdriver back in the toolbox as I step back and admire the table. It looks professional, and it certainly was the best one recommended to me by the company I contacted, but I couldn't stop the shot of nerves that hit me the second I'd finished prepping the room.
What if she didn't like it?
What if I'd gotten the wrong kind of table?
What if she would see this gesture as too serious and get scared?
I do my best to silence the racing thoughts, shoving them down as I move the table an inch to the left to ensure it’s centered in the spare room I have on the upper level of my home.