Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true. He’s nothing more than my ticket back into the NFL.”
“I’m not calling bullshit on how you met. I’m calling bullshit that he was never your real boyfriend. You’re practically living together, and you’re always all over each other, and don’t think I haven’t heard you fucking, because I didn’t go out and buy noise-canceling headphones for nothing. I’m jealous of what you guys have, and if neither of you can see it, you’re both fuckin’ blind.” He stands in a sudden rush, startling me. “Oh my God, song idea.”
I don’t have time to blink at him let alone stop him before he’s running upstairs to his bedroom. The door slams and then not even five seconds later, his guitar starts strumming a tune.
My gaze goes back to the laptop in front of me, and my heart rips through my gut at the sight of Chicago apartment listings. What the hell am I doing?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Noah
He’s nothing more than my ticket back into the NFL.
I pretend I didn’t overhear their conversation and tell myself to ignore what Matt said. He’s putting up a front for his brother.
Still doesn’t take away the sucker punch to the gut every time I hear those same words in my head over and over, because let’s face it, I’ve never been good at following anyone else’s instructions so I sure as fuck won’t listen to myself.
I hear the words when I sit on the couch next to him and he claims to be thirsty and disappears into the kitchen. I hear them when I join him in the shower after his workout and he claims to be finished and leaves me in there by myself. I hear them when he says he’s too tired and stressed about the move for sex.
In the three days since I overheard that conversation, Matt’s done nothing but pull away from me.
We still share a bed at night, but he’s checked out. He’s not really here.
He finds any excuse to leave a room when I walk into it. He’s hungry and he needs to take a leak are his favorites. To need to pee so much, he must be drinking six gallons of water.
He’s also pulling longer training sessions in the basement. Jet notices it too and shakes his head every time it happens.
Deep down, I get it. I understand. But damn, if it doesn’t hurt.
He’s doing the exact thing I asked him to do when we started this. To keep it simple.
Yet, when I wake up to a cold bed, I miss his warmth and his stupid thick arms that like to cling to me when we sleep.
I roll over and look at the time on my screen. The bright light blinds me in the dark hour of four a.m.
For a crushing moment, I think he’s gone—that he’s snuck out in the middle of the night and isn’t coming back, but once my eyes adjust, I know that’s not true. His clothes are still strewn around my room, and his phone is plugged into the charger on his bedside table.
I amble out of bed and find a pair of sweats. There’s only one place he could be, and it’s too damn early to be working out.
As suspected, I find him in the basement. He sits on the bench in the middle of the room, all sweaty and panting while he chugs a bottle of water. He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I lean against the doorway with my arms folded. When he’s done with his drink, he hangs his head in his hands.
“Isn’t it too middle of the night for a work out?” I ask.
Matt startles at my voice and raises his head. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“I know the feeling.”
We stare each other down, neither one of us willing to talk or tell each other what we’re thinking. I don’t know if I want to know what he’s thinking. I sure as fuck don’t want to ask him the real reason he’s down here at stupid o’clock.
With an outstretched hand, Matt beckons me over to him. “Come here.”
His serious tone makes me do it without hesitation, but as I get close, he reaches for me and brings me down on top of him so I’m straddling him on the narrow bench.
My hand tangles in his sweaty hair, and his perspiration covers my bare chest. Some would find that gross, but a hot, sweaty Matt is what I’ve come to live for since meeting him.
Despite our wobbly balance, Matt takes my mouth with punishing force. He teases me with his tongue and nips at my bottom lip.
All this guy has to do is kiss me and I’m as hard as granite. I try to grind against him, but on this ridiculously small space, it’s impossible without toppling over.
“Fuck this,” Matt says and pushes me to the floor.