Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I part my lips to speak, but words won’t come. Instead, I slide my hands into his hair and pull his mouth to mine. He kisses me lazily, his tongue sliding against mine. His thrusts are slow, but powerful.
“My Rowan,” he whispers against my lips.
Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them away. I know what this is. We don’t need the words; we have the connection. Landry Reynolds is making love to me. Love. I feel it with every touch, every swipe of his tongue against mine, every press of his hips against my own. It’s in the way he looks at me, looks after me. Every touch, every moment with him is filled with love.
We don’t need the words.
We have the actions.
“I’ll never be the same after this,” he whispers. “You’ve changed me, Rowan.”
“Landry,” I cry out for him, my words cracking. He’s changed me, too, in so many ways. He’s healed parts of me I didn’t even know were broken or that needed healing. Then this man…. This loud, goofy, always hungry football-loving man comes barreling into my life.
“I feel you, baby,” he says. “So tight and wet for me. So fucking warm. You’ve unleashed a beast. Now that I know what it feels like to have nothing between us….” He moans and curses under his breath. “You did that on purpose. Making your pussy milk my cock,” he says, trying to scold me, but he just sounds sexy as hell.
“I’m close. Oh God,” I say with a moan, because it’s never felt like this before.
“I feel you, beautiful. Come for me, Roe. Come. For. Me,” he grits out, his thrusts growing faster.
I’ve never come during sex, but that’s all about to change. My body tightens around him, and he groans. His lips are next to my ear, and that growl sets me off like a rocket. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me.
“Holy fuck,” he rasps. A few more hard thrusts, and he stills, spilling inside me, as he leans his forehead against mine.
We’re both breathing heavily as we settle into the moment. This man doesn’t just own a piece of me. He owns all of me.
Chapter Nineteen
Landry
Two minutes left on the play clock, and the Cougars have the ball. This game has been brutal. The Cougars have upped their defense this year, and I’m feeling it. We’re all feeling it. However, we’re still up by one touchdown.
I’m ready for this game to be over. I need a shower and to be at home in bed with Rowan lying on my chest. I can’t ever remember a time in my life when I was ready for a game just to end. This is a first. It’s also the first time I’ve had anything to look forward to afterward.
Rowan and I have been official, none of that faking shit, for over a month. Six weeks, to be exact, and I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t know what I was missing. Having her in my life has been the greatest gift.
“Offense!” Coach Warner calls out.
Slipping on my helmet, I make my way out onto the field. Knox pulls us into the huddle and calls out the play. “Reynolds, you ready to end this?” he asks me.
“You know it, Cap,” I immediately reply. I fight the urge to glance at the sidelines for my girl, but I hold strong.
Having her on the sidelines is fucking incredible, but it’s also a distraction. I have to make it a point not to stand next to her when we’re not on the field. I have to keep my head in the game. However, it doesn’t stop me from racing to her to do our celebratory handshake every time I make a touchdown. This game, that’s been zero. The Cougars’ defense has been double-teaming me all damn day.
Knox calls out the play, Keen hikes the ball, and I shoot out like a lightning bolt. My arms and legs pump as fast as they can go. I can feel their defenders on my ass, and I kick my pace into a higher gear. Turning, I see the ball flying toward me, but so is their defenseman. As soon as the ball lands in my hands, I’m tackled to the ground. The hit is brutal, and my body feels it as we collide onto the turf.
“Fuck, that hurts,” I mutter. Opening my eyes, I see one of the Cougars waiting, holding his hand out to help me up.
“You good, Reynolds?” He smirks.
“Fuck off, Sanderson,” I quip, which only makes him laugh. I place my hand in his and allow him to pull me up.
Two more times, we run similar plays, and each time, I’m tackled to the ground. I’m definitely going to be sore tomorrow.
Coach calls in our kicker, Hank Martin, because we’re within field goal range. At least something good came out of that hard-ass hit. Jogging off the sidelines, I rip off my helmet and watch the action unfold. It’s as if I’m watching it all in slow motion as Hank kicks the ball. I follow its path with my gaze as it flies through the center of the uprights.