Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Mav,” I say as he watches me, detailing every nuance of my reaction. I’ll never have enough of this, of him. He’s ruining me.
I turn my face to him, gasping for air. His lips kiss my shoulder, sucking hard as my body clenches his cock.
Sensation gathers, growing warm and then hot at the base of my spine. Arching my back, I take all of him as his hands hold my hips, pushing me harder and harder until I break, shattering into a million pieces.
I breathe out his name and hang on as his cock swells inside me. He crests over the edge and calls my name.
His mouth finds mine and kisses me, his hands still holding me up as he pushes into me and shudders.
I feel supple and loose, like a cat that’s just been fed a big bowl of cream and now only wants to bask in the sun.
Then I’m reminded of where I am: in the restroom of the local Buffalo Bills.
He slowly lowers me. “I can’t believe we just did that,” I say as I disentangle myself, my feet finding solid ground.
I’m wobbly as I straighten my clothes, watching out of the corner of my eye as he disposes of the condom then zips his pants up. I hand him his shirt and he finishes getting dressed, watching me with a considering look on his face.
“What?” I say, turning to him. I know I must look crazy with my hair everywhere.
“Nothing, just…happy.”
Emotion clogs my throat. We’re moving so fast, but I can’t stop it. I can’t. I want him. Maybe I love him. My hands shake as I ease past him to open the stall and step out into the sink area where I turn on the faucet and run cold water over my wrists. I don’t know why I do it, just that my Nana used to do it when she got flustered. It seems fitting.
He grabs my hands and laces our fingers together. “So are we going back to your place or mine?”
“I thought you said you had to go work out?”
“I do, but I want to hold you tonight. I want to wake up and you be there.”
I smile. “Mine.”
Delaney
Mav-Man: Did you get the gift I left on your porch?
Me: You mean the stuffed animal wearing a Jedi outfit? Didn’t know it was from you.
Mav-Man: Minx. Who else buys you stuffed cats? I’ll make you pay for that remark later.
Me: Can’t wait. XOXO
I sip from a glass of red wine as I sit across from Maverick inside Giardina’s Italian Grill, an eatery a few blocks from campus. With dark lighting, a ceiling strung with ivy, and a collection of art depicting scenes from Venice on the amber-colored walls, it’s quaint and a popular date night place—which is what we’re doing tonight. Saturdays are busy, and I’m glad Maverick called ahead to reserve a table for four. I cross my legs under the table and uncross them, nervous to be meeting his dad and seeing Raven again.
He taps his fingers on the table, on edge, perhaps because his dad and sister are officially ten minutes late. He keeps staring at his phone, checking the time and seeing if she’s texted him.
I study him, taking in the chiseled jawline, the straight angles of his nose and forehead. It’s late March and his hair has grown out; he wears it swept back off his face, the ends curling around his ears. A pale blue button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up is paired with a pair of jeans that sculpt the taut muscles of his thighs. He smells intoxicating, all earthy and spicy from his shower at my place. Even though he looks great semi-dressed up, my favorite look on him is gym shorts, a tank, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
“You look gorgeous,” he tells me, taking in my demure Peter Pan-collared black dress. The lapels are a stark white with tiny seed pearls I sewed on myself. His hand reaches out and strokes a long finger down my neck, ending at my collar where he tugs me toward him and kisses me lightly on the lips. “I’m with Skye—you should look into fashion when you graduate.”
I grin. I love how beautiful and talented he thinks I am. “Maybe. I’m not sure what I’ll do after this, maybe grad school.”
“Where at?” There’s a worry line on his forehead, and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want me to go to far from wherever he ends up in the NFL.
I study the white linen of the tablecloth. “I’m not sure, maybe somewhere back in North Carolina.”
What I don’t say is I really don’t know because I want to know where he’ll be going next year. I sigh at the prick of fear that rises up at the direction of my thoughts. Maverick is…he’s all I think about. What I felt for Alex doesn’t even compare.