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)
Ambrosia nods slowly. “Yeah, Mom. We’re fine. You fed him like ten times.”
I nod. “I’m full.”
Of everything but Ambrosia.
She side-eyes me, and I wonder if I said that out loud. Naylia looks at Ambrosia then touches her nose. “The drawer.”
Ambrosia squeaks like one of those dog toys before turning beet red and then speaking very firmly and quickly in Spanish. Her mom laughs as Naylia only shrugs and says something back in just as firm a tone.
Meanwhile, my parents and I are wishing there were subtitles.
Her mom smiles then, smacking her hands. “Good. I’ll see you later, then? We’ll walk out with Jayden and Baylor.”
I don’t miss the warning look Naylia sends me—or the one my dad does—before they finally leave me alone with Ambrosia. We have a solid ten feet between us, her leaning against the counter as I stand in front of the table. Our eyes don’t part as we listen to our parents and her aunt get their things. When the door clicks shut, I stand a bit taller and let out a long sigh.
I’m in Ambrosia’s apartment.
Alone.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and then flash her a smile. She tries to hold back her own, but she can’t. I hook a thumb toward where they left. “What got you all pissy with her?”
Her face flushes again before she waves me off. “Oh, nothing. She just knows no boundaries.” She rolls her eyes. “What else did they say to you?”
“Besides the threat of how Naylia can kill someone ten times her size?” Ambrosia snorts, shaking her head. She leans back on the counter with her hands, pushing her breasts toward me in the most delectable way. The way she is standing, her skirt is tight along her thighs, the ruffles playing against her skin the way I want to.
With my mouth.
I don’t allow myself to move.
Ignoring my stiff cock, I somehow get out, “Nothing, really. Your mom said your dad liked me a lot. I knew that, but it was nice to hear.”
Her eyes widen before she stands a bit taller. “You knew my dad?”
I nod. “Yeah. He coached me at Rink & Riffs.”
She looks away, biting on her lip. “I didn’t know that.”
“I thought you did.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I knew he would like you.”
I smile. “Really? It’s my charm, huh?”
She gives me a dry look. “No, you probably reminded him of himself. Cocky, confident, and a showboater.”
I laugh. “Showboater? I don’t show off.”
“You paid me for a solid week just to use a photo of me.”
I point to her. “Solid investment.” I hold up my phone to show her the photo, and she rolls her eyes again. “I’m also really funny.”
She shrugs, holding back a grin. “You can be a bit humorous.”
I waggle my brows at her. “I always make you laugh.”
She holds my gaze. “No. DoesMyBreathStink60 makes me laugh. You make me stabby.”
I grin, taking a small step forward. “How long did you know it was me?”
“Since the beginning,” she says, watching me take slow steps to her.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?” she throws back with a cocked brow.
“I felt like it was the only way you’d talk to me.”
“And I felt like I could enjoy you without it being you.”
I pause, holding her gaze. “But that’s changed?”
Her teeth come down on her bottom lip as her eyes search mine. The air in the room is thicker than game-day ice, and I feel my heart trying to come out of my chest. This is a core memory, and I will myself not to forget anything that happens. Or how utterly beautiful she is. Her lashes are long, her nose shiny, and her lips glossed up to perfection. She looks good enough to eat, and I’d give my right nut for a taste.
Without a word, she slowly nods, and my heart kicks up in speed. I smile, taking another step, almost coming toe-to-toe with her. “Are those tickets still at will call for me?”
My whole body goes on alert as I hold her shy gaze. I love how she always maintains eye contact. She may be shy or nervous, but she always looks me in the eye. I nod as I trail a finger along the back of her hand. She sucks in a sharp breath as I tell her, “Standing tickets for Ambrosia Mercer.”
She threads her fingers through mine. I squeeze them, and she does it back, sending heat up my arm. “Let me know the next time you’re playing, and I’m there.”
“Will do,” I somehow get out, even though my heart is pounding like mad in my throat.
“Can I ask you something?” she says, so quietly I almost don’t hear her.
“Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Any fucking thing, Ro. I want to tell you it all.”
“You do?”
“And more,” I promise, clenching my fists in my pockets. “And I want to know anything and everything about you.”