Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I swallowed against the tightness that built in my throat at the nightmarish thought, choosing to find comfort in her words instead of questioning the truth of them.
“And I’m yours,” I whispered back.
Her arms tightened around me, and for one night, everything was perfect.
We should have known it could never stay that way.
Giana
In all my favorite movies, and in all my favorite books, there’s this moment that I like to call the cotton candy cloud moment.
It’s usually at the beginning, but sometimes a little toward the end, when everything is working out perfectly for the main character. They’re high on life, everything going their way, and they bear an impenetrable smile as they seemingly float through every day on a cloud of fluffy pink and purple sugar. It usually happens right before everything crashes down.
That was me.
I was having my cotton candy cloud moment.
And there was no crash in sight.
Charlotte was so impressed after the auction and especially by me handling our away game in Maine that she offered to extend my contract through next season — and with that came a signing bonus and a raise. I was shocked to silence when she first told me, but she’d only smiled and arched a brow.
“Your determination to prove everyone wrong about you worked,” she said. “But now, I want you to ask yourself what it is you really want from this. And then, I want you to take it.”
Her belief in me had stoked a fire, making me consider all the ways my career could pan out. It was intoxicating to think about.
But nothing was as intoxicating as Clay.
I woke up with him in my bed almost every morning, and on the ones I didn’t, he would be at my door within seconds of me waking. Classes dragged by, practice always seemed too long, and even happy as I was in my job, I couldn’t wait for the work day to be done, for the interviews and publicity events to end.
I couldn’t wait to be back in his arms.
Every moment he spent unraveling me was ecstasy, my body singing like never before under his symphonic conduction. Just when I thought I’d found my favorite way to have him touch me or fill me, he’d find a new way, something to excite me and surprise me and bring me pleasure not even my books could rival.
And that wasn’t even the best part.
The best moments were when we were wrapped together in the early hours of the morning, talking and laughing and discovering one another more than just physically. Or when we’d have a whole conversation across the crowded practice field with just one single glance. Or when anxiety would start to creep in for one of us, and the other would quickly soothe it with just the right words and a kiss to seal the promise.
“What would you think about coming home with me for Christmas?”
I blanched at Clay’s question one morning, the first words he spoke in the early light.
“To California?”
He nodded.
My heart burst at how he looked at me, with reverence and a tinge of fear. I held onto that gaze as I curled into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and lying my head on his chest.
“On two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“One, you meet my dad when he comes in a couple weeks for my sister’s award ceremony.”
“Done.”
I smiled into his chest.
“And two?”
“Two,” I said, drawing a circle on his stomach with my finger. “You have to teach me how to surf.”
“I can’t surf.”
“Then we can both learn.”
“It’ll be freezing.”
I peeked up at him. “I bet we can find ways to warm up after.”
His sleepy grin matched mine, and then he kissed me, and I was the happiest girl in the world.
Every day was a gift, shinier and more promising than the last, and I floated on my little cotton candy cloud in pure, unbreakable bliss.
Even when Maliyah tried to rip me off and throw me to the cold hard earth.
I was in the stadium bathroom about a week after our win against the Bandits, wiping under my eyes from where my mascara had run. It had been a long day, especially with Kyle Robbins signing yet another deal that meant I was committed to helping him through a photoshoot for a sports drink. Honestly, I couldn’t fault him.
If I could make a couple hundred-thousand dollars for a photoshoot, I’d do it, too.
As I reapplied my lipstick and tried to give my hair back some of the volume that the humid cold had brought, Maliyah whipped through the door.
She paused at the sight of me, swallowing as her eyes trailed me from head to toe. I expected her to go into one of the stalls, but instead, she walked straight toward the sinks, flicking on the water as she began to wash her hands.