Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Yup, I have only one thing I want to entertain.
I drink in the heart-stopping woman in front of me. She has been on my mind since the moment she flicked my nose and sauntered away. And I mean sauntered.
Hips swaying.
Ass bouncing.
Fuck, that ass.
Yeah, it needs its own zip code the way it’s been living rent-free in my head.
Hell, she has her own space in my brain that I’ve given freely to her.
I lick my lips as Ambrosia smiles brightly at Ella Mae before ordering her drink, a 5-Minute Major Macchiato. The owner of The Penalty Perk is rather tall, with long legs that are encased in bright-purple tights under sparkly black shorts with an oversized Penalty Perk jersey. She has a blunt cut bob of dark hair that brushes her chin when she moves. She looks like a goth version of an ice girl, with her dark makeup and a lip piercing she keeps chewing on.
Ella is cute as hell, and I may have hit on her before, but not now.
Which is another thought we’re all going to ignore.
Ella hands over Ambrosia’s drink, and she must feel me staring. She looks up, her smile bright before it falls as she does a double take at me. Her lips part, her gaze locking with mine as her eyes narrow. A flutter tickles my chest as I tip my chin at her. “Hey there, heart-stopper.”
Ella Mae looks over at me, then to Ambrosia, a grin on her face, while Ambrosia’s face turns bright red. She inhales, pushing her shoulders back. “Hotshot.”
I nod toward the bench across from me. “Join me?”
She studies me, wary but curious, and I flash her a grin that’s all charm and trouble. “I’ll play nice.”
Her eyes spark with defiance. “I probably won’t.”
“Promise?”
She hides behind her cup, but the smile in her eyes gives her away. “That’s a promise I can keep.”
“Come do your worst, then,” I urge, leaning back against the booth.
Hesitantly, she comes over to sit down, her eyes never leaving mine. I lean on my forearms, and I don’t miss the way her eyes trace the veins of my arms. The look of want in her eyes sets me on fire. I know she wants me—I can see it, feel it, and if I got between her thighs, I’d taste it—but she doesn’t want to want me.
That needs to change.
“Eyes up here, Mercer.”
Her eyes snap to mine, a pretty blush spreading over her cheeks. “What? Like you didn’t check me out?”
“Oh, I did,” I admit, and her blush deepens.
Fucking hell, this girl.
“This isn’t a spot for Bullies’ athletes. They usually hit up the coffee shop on campus since it’s free and easy to access.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind the drive, especially when the reward is greater than the treat.”
Our eyes lock, and I know she hears what I really mean. That I’ve been doing everything to see her. We just stare at each other—the sounds of an espresso machine going off, the chatter of the people, the goal horn, all of it fading away as I get lost in her whiskey gaze. So many different browns swirl around her pupils, and the way her dark lashes frame her eyes makes them seem insanely intoxicating.
I lick my lips and clear my throat. I want to say something profound, ask about her weekend, but instead, I blurt, “Your eyes are fucking stunning.”
Her cup stops before it reaches her mouth, her eyes searching mine. “Thank you.” She takes a sip, then places her cup on the table. It’s a black cup with purple pucks all over it, the name of the coffee shop printed in bold purple block letters. “I still won’t go out with you.”
“You’re out with me now.”
She scoffs. “Hardly. We ended up in the same place.”
“Hey, a date is a date.”
She rolls her eyes, giggling as she leans back, moving her finger along the side of her cup. “I don’t date guys who shit on my dad’s theory.”
I grin. “I didn’t shit on it. I just didn’t agree with it.”
She leans in, mirroring my stance, our coffee cups almost touching. I move my fingers along my cup, just for the chance to accidentally touch her. “You laughed at it, at me—”
“Hey, you laughed at me a lot.”
She shrugs. “Because you laughed at me first.” I grin, loving how passionate she is. “It’s insane, because the theory is totally true.”
“It’s not.”
“It is!” she says, and I know if I looked, people would be staring at us. “You’re a perfect example.”
“How so?” I ask incredulously. “I’ve never been in love.”
She is visibly annoyed. Her eyes widen, and her cheeks redden as she sighs. “But you have the perfect example of love at every turn. Your parents, your uncles and aunts, your grandparents. Hell, even your cousin is in a happy marriage.”