Mr. Break Your Headboard – Mr. Series Read Online Jordan Marie

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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“Good. Now, put your hands up,” he instructs, gathering the shirt up in his hands by the collar and waiting for me.

I lift one arm, still not releasing my shirt with the other hand. “I can't.”

He looks down at my hand, clutching my shirt. “Sure, you can. I'm blocking you so no one will see.”

“But—” “I promise not to look. Besides, you have a bra on.”

Not only will I be wearing his shirt, but now he's speaking about my bra. My blush intensifies and to make matters worse my nipples harden. Jesus, at this point, I’m praying little green aliens land to take me back to their mother planet.

“Keep your eyes up,” I demand pointedly.

“Scouts honor,” Ryder says.

I let go of my shirt, holding my hands up as I keep my eyes on his, making sure he's keeping his word. Surprisingly, he does as he slips the shirt on my head and arms.

The shirt is much looser than I expected, with Ryder being tall and muscular. I look down to see the baseball logo for the Houston Astros.

“Are you sure you don't care if I wear this? I mean you wear it before every game for good luck…”

“How do you know that?” he asks, slightly tilting his head as his eyebrows furrow.

I could tell him because I notice way too much about him, but that would be crazy bold of me. “Uh… Emmie must've mentioned it. Is she wrong?” I ask, covering my random knowledge about him.

"Nah," he says, smiling. “It’s silly, but I think the shirt brings me good luck. I didn't realize Emmie would notice why I wore it, though. Baseball seems to bore her. I'm glad she notices things like that about me. Well, I better go."

I start to reach in the locker to get my books, but he puts a hand on my shoulder. The warmth from his hand feels like a brand through the worn fabric of the shirt.

“Woah, before we both get concussions, stop right there. I'll get them,” he teases as he picks them up, handing them to me.

“Thanks, Ryder.”

“No problem. See you around, Buttons,” he jokes, laughing as he walks away.

I gasp in surprise. Oh God…

Ryder

Driving in my vintage 59' Chevy Apache truck, all I could really want on such a nice summer day is some air conditioning. This old ivory and turquoise truck is my favorite possession. Still, in the Wyoming summer heat, I would give anything for some damn cool air. Of course, it’s even hotter in Texas most of the time and that hasn’t made me find another ride. I mean, it has power steering and that's enough in the grand scheme of things.

I'm almost home. I should be happy, but the closer I get, the more I fill with dread. Being home means my father spends most of my visit time asking when I will give up my nonsense dream of baseball and start helping out with our family ranch. All of my brothers have done that—which makes the fact that I haven’t even worse in Dad’s eyes.

He's never understood that no part of me wanted to own a ranch, let alone help out on one. I hate mucking stalls, and while the horses are beautiful, there are only three things I like to ride—my motorcycle, my truck, or a beautiful woman.

It’s the same issue when he talks about me joining the rodeo circuit. He’s convinced I’d be a millionaire if I applied myself and joined the PBR. The truth is, he’s probably right. I am a damn good bull rider. It comes natural to me. I know I could do it, but I’m also highly aware that it would make me miserable.

Baseball is what I love. It always has been. There's a fever in my blood for it. I know I didn’t make the big league, but I still get to do what I love. Plus, I make more than enough to pay bills and live comfortably. My father never seems happy with that. None of my family is really, except my mom. Of course, she would support me no matter what. She always has.

I turn off the main street to the long, winding dirt road leading to the house. I pass through the gate with the giant iron sign. Double M Ranch. This place gets bigger and greener every year. Even from the road, I can tell the hay fields have expanded at least another five acres from the last time I was here. All the buildings look like they just got a fresh coat of paint and new roofing. It's really coming along. I can remember when we had only room for five horses at a time. I was little back then and barely able to carry the feed buckets first thing in the morning with my father.


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