Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I opened the door and instantly smiled when I saw Echo standing there, holding a large bottle of Gatorade.
“I thought maybe you felt like celebrating,” she said with a playful grin, wiggling the bottle.
“With you? Any time.” I stood aside, and she walked in, heading straight for the kitchen. God, I’d missed her. We were texting daily—hell it was the reason I kept my phone on me—but I hadn’t seen her in a week, and it had been almost three since she’d been in my apartment last.
Three weeks since I’d had my mouth on her and I swore I could still taste her on my tongue. Which was why I was pretty much in a semi-permanent state of arousal. Well, that and her smartass comment about sex with no strings.
Not that I was against no-strings sex. Hell, it might be the only thing I had time for. But I also liked...her, and the strings didn’t seem so bad if they were attached to Echo. As much as I hated the definition talk, we were going to have to have it.
I followed her and leaned on the island as she grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet. “Looks like I got here in time to see you in your post-game gear,” she said over her shoulder as she poured the Gatorade into the glasses.
“Yeah, I’ve only been home about twenty minutes.” I chuckled, looking down at my dress shirt, tie, and slacks. Coach demanded we dress to fly to and from games, and while he didn’t care what we looked like on the plane itself, it was suits to and from the airport every time. “How did you know I was home? Not that I’m complaining if you’ve decided to full-on stalk me.”
She arched an eyebrow at me as she turned with our glasses, and set one down in front of me. “Langley called, and then I saw your light on from the bar.” She nodded toward the window. “I was done with my shift, so I took a chance.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too.”
I downed the glass of Gatorade and set it back on the counter.
“Easy there, killer,” she teased with a grin. “I’d hate to see you get Gatorade-wasted.”
“Very funny—what the hell are you wearing?” My mouth dropped at her sweatshirt, which was cut with a ragged neckline that hung off one shoulder, revealing a bright purple bra-strap and a considerable amount of kissable, inked skin. But it wasn’t the cut that had me shocked, it was the content.
“What?” she asked, backing up and pulling out the maroon athletic wear to look at the graphic that read Respect the Cock. “You’re not a cock fan?” she challenged.
Speechless. I was completely speechless.
“South Carolina Gamecocks,” she finally said with an outright laugh. “See?” She pointed to the rooster that adorned the sleeve. “It’s my alma mater.”
I shook my head as she rounded the island, and I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing her waist and tugging her against me. “Gamecocks, huh?”
She looped her arms around my neck, and it hit me that she wasn’t dressed up in her usual in-your-face style. She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, and her hair was swept up into some kind of knot on the top of her head. She looked like I imagined she would at home, comfortable, and all the sexier for it.
“Yep. I usually joke that I only have a degree in mixology, but that’s because most people who sit at my bar aren’t really looking for me to talk about myself. It’s an easy way to deflect the conversation to whatever’s bothering them.”
I wondered how often she did that—deflected from what was going on with her in order to comfort someone else. Was it because she naturally liked people, or because she didn’t want anyone seeing her scars?
“So what is your degree in?” I asked.
“Business,” she answered with a shrug.
“Way more useful than exercise science.”
She leaned up and brushed her mouth against mine. “But it’s given you quite the body.”
“Eh, I’d have to say that’s more hockey, less books.” I kissed her softly, careful to keep myself in check. Damn, she felt good against me.
“Whatever it is, it’s working for you,” she said with a smile against my lips. Then she ran her tongue over my lower lip, and I forgot all my good intentions about talking about...anything.
In a matter of seconds, I had her ass on the kitchen counter, her thighs wrapped around me, the bare skin of her waist under my fingers, and my tongue in her mouth. Our kiss wasn’t pretty or delicate. It was open and hot, with nips of teeth and rubbing tongues. It was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to what I wanted to do to her, and damn if she didn’t give it back just as fiercely.