Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Is that her already? Did I lose track of time with my neurotic pacing?
I rush to the door and yank it open, whatever chill I had in my body completely gone, grinning at her like a fucking idiot.
I feel like I've been hit by a lightning jolt of joy and that lightning jolt has gone straight to my cock.
"Hey," she says, her voice soft and warm.
"Hey," I reply, trying to sound cool and collected.
She steps forward, wrapping her hands around my neck, her warmth pressed against my body—her boobs, too. It sends a shiver down my spine and has me wrapping my arms around her, pulling her close.
"The front door was unlocked so I let myself in," she says softly. “Wasn’t that brave of me?”
"You just waltzed right in?" I tease, pulling back to meet her gaze.
She nods, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yup, I figured it was easier than running into one of your roommates. I like Sully but I’m not in the mood to socialize and I figured you weren’t either."
“None of them are home.”
“Again? Wow. Are we having a streak of good luck or are they out partying or something?”
I shake my head. “They’re at the bar. Don’t think they’ll be long though.”
Leaning in, I press a lingering kiss to her forehead. Have I ever kissed a girl on the forehead before?
Who am I?
I’m acting like a sap, that’s who.
Without a word, I lean down; my heart pounds in my chest as our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. Sparks go off in my brain—
I can practically hear the "oohs" and "aahs" echoing in my mind, crackling in the air around us.
So this is what having a girlfriend is like….
Not that she’s my girlfriend.
But I’ve often wondered what the big deal is and now I know.
Bonkers.
Moments like this—that make your dick hard at the same time they make your heart race—are the best fucking combo and I dare you to argue with me about it.
My addled brain throws confetti when her tongue meets mine; her delicious, sweet, warm tongue.
As our lips move with a sweet urgency that leaves me breathless. In that moment, nothing else matters but the intoxicating sensation of her pressed against me, and I’m glad my dipshit roommates aren’t here but even if they busted through the door…
Would I notice?
Would I notice if a truck drove through the living room?
I deepen the kiss, losing myself in the taste and feel and smell of her; each brush of our lips sending waves of pleasure coursing through my veins and makes me want to pick her up and toss her to the—
Lizzy pulls back, breaking the kiss.
Dabs at the corners of her mouth, face red. Lips totally puffy and pouty.
I did that.
I made them that way.
She’s sexy as hell, hair a bit mussed though my hands weren’t in it, raking through it as I’ve done before because it’s so fuckiing silky smooth.
“Well.” She lets out a puff of air. “Woo! That was…” She goes and sits on the edge of my bed. “That was intense.”
Intense.
Hot.
Sexy.
I look down at her, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans to stop myself from reaching for her again.
Here she is, sitting on the edge of my bed, looking all cute and sated and I have no clue what to do with myself next.
Think Brodie, think, you fucker.
You invited her here for food, but did you think to make any? Or order it?
No.
Because you’re a moron.
My lack of inexperience with women is showing.
I can’t stand here staring at her until one of us cracks a joke.
"Tell me about your hockey game?" Lizzy asks, breaking the silence.
Thank god.
I blink, momentarily thrown by the unexpected topic. "But you were there.”
Lizzy doesn't seem deterred by my lackluster response. Guess she’s used to it by now?
“I know I was there but I want to hear what it’s like.”
“What’s it like being on the ice?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s cold,” I tease, removing the phone from my back pocket and pulling up the delivery app. Might as well get us something to eat while we’re lounging around since I promised her I’d feed her.
“You brat.” She giggles. “Do you ever accidentally trip over your own skates?"
I chuckle at her playful teasing. "I used to, when I was younger,” I admit. “Now I’ll probably only trip over them if I know you’re going to be watching.”
“I doubt that.”
Little does she know how fucking nervous I am when I’m with her; how I feel like a giant ox, wandering around drunk in a room full of breakable glass.
“You look cute in skates.”
Cute in skates?
“Words that no one has uttered to a hockey player.”
She bounces her knee. “How do you know?”
“Cuz I know. That’s not something we hear.”
“Fine. How about sexy? You look sexy in skates.”
I nod. “Yeah. That one gets used all the time.”