Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Why would you?” he asks, opening the pizza box. “We are incredible together. Hell, if it makes you feel better, I’ll wear a matching dress.”
I snicker as he hands me a piece of pizza, and then he takes my other hand. Our fingers thread together almost instantly, and it just feels so right. It’s as if our hands are two very old puzzle pieces that, no matter the time or space, fit perfectly together. “I’d love to see you in a dress. You look great in a leo.”
Benson’s face breaks into a wide grin. “I’d wear it for you.”
“Such a good, supportive boyfriend,” I say with a wink, and he nods.
“You know good and well that I am.”
“I do,” I agree as I take a long drink of my Cherry Coke. “Though, I’m pretty sure the bet was for me falling into your bed, which I didn’t.”
“You can spin it any way you want, but I’m pretty sure Callie won.”
I nod. “She did. Though, I think I’m the one who truly won.”
He licks his lip, leaning into me. “After that? Beauty, we both won.”
My laughter is breathless as I take a bite of my pizza. Around the bite, I say, “That reminds me, we have some B-roll footage to shoot this week.”
He nods. “Okay. Are you coming to my game?”
“Of course. We have a home meet this week.”
“I know. I’m going—much to your mother’s dismay, I’m sure.”
My stomach clenches. “I should probably introduce you to them.”
“That doesn’t sound confident at all.”
“It’s not,” I admit. “My mom will be a bitch.”
He shrugs. “Duly noted.”
I kiss his jaw. “My dad will be nice.”
He meets my gaze. “Beauty, I don’t give a shit about anyone but you.” Everything warms inside me. “Which reminds me, are you busy Sunday?”
I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Would you go to the Adlers’ with me for dinner? Apparently, Quinn is bringing Ava, and they’re announcing their engagement.”
I snort. “That’s gonna be a shitshow.”
“Oh yeah, I can’t wait.”
I laugh as I shake my head. “I’d love to come.”
He gives me a small smile. “Awesome.”
We share a heated look but refrain from attacking each other. At least, until we’re done with our food. As he takes my body to the edge of oblivion over and over again, I can’t ignore how much I crave this intimacy with him. The normalcy of how easy it is between us hits me deep in my chest. I knew from the beginning that if I allowed myself to be with him the way I wanted, I’d fall for him. As I watch him bury his face between my thighs again, I know for a fact that’s happening.
I just hope Benson is falling for me too.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Benson
I have spent more time with fucking Dawson than I have Cameron this week, and I am very unhappy about it. I’d rather be tangled in her limbs than deal with Dawson’s fucking mouth. I swear he tries me, he pushes me, and I can’t stand the idiot.
I gawk at him as he watches me with a disinterested look. “You have been passing a puck since you were born, right?”
Dawson shrugs. “That pass was on point.”
“Whose point? The boards? On my stick, Sinclair, or I can’t fucking score. Go by the damn net!” I holler, and while he’s a pain, he does listen. He’s improving, but it’s like pulling teeth to get it out of him. It’s as if he has a chip on his shoulder or something, which makes no damn sense to me. His parents are great and he’s talented, so why he doesn’t want this is beyond me. When he is lined up with me, I pass the puck, hard, and to his stick with ease. “You shouldn’t have to look at me to pass. You know where I am, get it to me.”
He does as I ask, and I nod in approval. We go back and forth for what seems like hours before he’s begging for water. I roll my eyes as I go to the bench for my water bottle, and he comes up beside me. “You gotta trust me,” I tell him after swallowing a mouthful of water. “Put the puck on my blade, I’ll score. Believe me, I’ll make sure you score too, but you have to trust me.”
“It’s hard when I don’t like you.”
“You don’t have to like me, bruh. We’re teammates. This is for the team, not each other.” He swallows as he thinks that over while he takes his helmet off. I watch as he shakes out his hair, squirting his face with water, and something clicks for me. “I get the feeling you don’t want this.”
His gaze snaps to mine, water dripping down his nose. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. You’re a badass football player. If you don’t want to play hockey, you don’t have to.”