Heavy Shot – Nashville Assassins Next Generation Read Online Toni Aleo

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
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Air rushes out of me, and I think I may pass out, because under Dimitri’s intense gaze, breathing isn’t even an option.

eighteen

Dimitri

Austen’s lips part.

Her eyes widen.

I can hear the air leave her body.

Which leaves me harder than a goalpost.

Those two words—no, really, just the one, fuck—almost have me coming like a teenager who got his first look at porn. I never thought I’d hear her say the word, and she’s had plenty of opportunities when she could have but didn’t. I want to hear her say it again…while I’m deep inside her. I want her to scream my name and tell me to fuck her, because I will.

Happily.

The flush along Austen’s cheeks causes my blood to rush right to my cock. Her neck shines with color, and I see a vein pulsing. I want nothing more than to use my plastic teeth and bite her there. Nuzzle her and take in her essence, knowing she’ll squirm under my touch. Her eyes are wild with anger, embarrassment, and—no one can tell me different—desire. If I were a vampire, or a wolf, like in her book, I could probably smell it pouring off her. I’m actually very jealous that I can’t, ’cause fuck, I bet she smells like heaven.

Her chest rises and falls with a vengeance. Mine does the same as the heat flows between us. My nails bite into my palms as I try not to touch her. For one, I know I won’t be able to stop touching her. And for two, I don’t want anyone seeing any part of her. My gaze falls from her eyes to her lips, and once more, they part as she takes in a deep breath.

“Hey, sit down. Austen, I don’t know what he did, but can you make sure you hit him somewhere it won’t negatively affect how he shoots?”

The words knock me out of the trance that is Austen. I look over to see Posey with a brow up and a scrutinizing look on her face. “My bad, Coach. Just razzing.”

Austen pulls her eyes away and pushes past me, which has me grinning from ear to ear. She goes to the top row, and I must be a glutton for punishment because I follow her. Flynn stops me, though, pulling me down beside him a couple rows up. “Leave her alone,” he says under his breath as he pops out the teeth. “She may really kill you.”

He may be right. I look behind me, up at the top, where she is passionately writing something. Probably a death threat—or all the things she wants me to do to her. I hope it’s the latter. Her eyes cut to mine, and those gold nuggets burn into mine. Man, she’s big mad, and I love it. I tear my gaze from her, reluctantly, and look to where Coach Posey is discussing special teams. I am tight everywhere, and it’s super hard to pay attention. I keep wanting to look up at Austen, check on her, but I know it’s a bad idea.

Somehow, I make it through the meeting without looking at her—or even coming in my pants, which is a feat all its own. When the meeting is over, everyone starts to file out, but when I look back, I notice she hasn’t moved. Austen is still writing very violently in her notebook, and something moves inside me. I know I should go; I know I’ve got to suit up and hit the ice to practice what we just talked about, but I can’t go without talking to her.

“Go,” Flynn says, low, so no one will hear him. “Leave her alone.”

“I can’t,” I say, sitting back down.

“You have to be on the ice, Blake. Stop fucking around. She won’t get you on the roster.”

I know this. “I don’t fucking care,” I say simply, meeting my cousin’s gaze.

Flynn shakes his head. “I’m gonna be super pissed if I make it and you don’t.”

I snort. “You’ll have to get faster to make it before me,” I throw at him, but he doesn’t laugh. He’s serious.

“People are starting to assume something is going on,” he says quietly. “Hell, I assume.”

“It’s no one’s business. We’re friends.”

Flynn doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight me. Instead, he heads out with everyone else. When the room is empty, I stand up and turn to look up at her. She’s coming down the stairs, her eyes like lasers on the door, trying her hardest not to look at me. I let her pass and inhale her baked-good scent. I follow behind her, close enough for her to know I’m there, but not close enough to touch her with my body.

Right before we reach the door, she says, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Man, her voice winds me up. “I do, but I wanted to make sure you’re good.”


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