Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“One, I’m retired.”
She rolls her eyes.
“And two, what do you mean I never go on any dates?” It’s true, but how the fuck would she know that?
“Oh, c’mon,” she says, setting her fork down. “You were named The Most Eligible Bachelor several different years. Paparazzi follow you everywhere and they’re always talking about how you never date. You go to events and are occasionally seen with women, but you’re never actually seen on a date, and almost never with the same woman more than once or twice.”
I find myself grinning at her words. “You’re a total stalker.” I laugh.
She groans. “No!”
“Yes, you are.” I nod slowly.
“Whatever, Landon.” She scoffs.
“I bet you’re part of the Landon Maxwell Fan Club.”
“Oh my God! No, I’m not,” she screeches.
“I bet you’re the president of it.”
She snorts. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“You’re right, though,” I admit. “I don’t do dates. At least I didn’t… But I want to take you out.”
“Why is that?”
“Why do I want to take you out?” I ask. “Well, for starters I’ve thought about you almost every day since the day you told me you were pregnant…” I don’t add that that was the hardest day of my fucking life for many reasons.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Why don’t you ever date? Why are you thirty-one years old and still single with no kids and have never been married?”
I still at her question. The easy answer is I’ve been married to my career, but the real answer is far more detailed than that. I consider telling her the truth, the whole truth, but it’s too soon. We’ve only just reconnected. I’m not about to scare her off before we’ve even begun.
“It was just never the right time. Baseball makes it hard to get to know anyone.”
She eyes me curiously, but thankfully doesn’t press for more information.
“So, how about it? You and me on a real date tonight.”
“We’ll see,” she quips noncommittedly, picking her fork back up and stabbing another piece of pancake.
“We’ll see?” I question.
“We’ll. See.” She shrugs, but I can see the smile threatening to break free, telling me she’s going to let me take her out.
We take turns, each getting bites of the pancakes, until there’s only one bite left. Plucking it off the plate, I dip it into the cup of syrup and then bring it up to her mouth. She takes the piece from me, moaning as a bit of syrup drips down her chin.
Leaning over, I lick the stickiness off her chin. “The pancakes are good, but you taste way better.”
She giggles. “I really like when you taste me.” She waggles her brows playfully.
“I can taste you again,” I offer. This time when she laughs, she must forget she’s holding a tray in her lap, because her knee comes up and knocks it over. It clatters to the ground, but not before the cup of syrup flies through the air and lands on the bed… and all over Harper.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks. She’s about to scamper off the bed when I stop her.
“Don’t move,” I say with a laugh. “You have syrup all over you.” I point at the front of her. The syrup has landed all over my shirt from last night. After the second—or maybe it was the third—round of sex, Harper grabbed our discarded clothes from the living room and brought them in here, where she proceeded to put my shirt on. With several of the buttons undone, her cleavage spilled out of the front, and I told her she’s only allowed to wear my shirts from now on. She laughed and told me she’s okay with that since they always smell like me.
“Oh, no.” She pouts. “That’s going to stain your shirt.” She lifts the shirt carefully over her head, but as she does so, the syrup drips downward and lands all over her luscious fucking tits. It’s like watching porn but better because she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing.
Grabbing my shirt from her, I throw it onto the ground. Then I move the bedsheet, which will need to be washed, out of the way.
“Landon! What are you—”
Before she can finish her question, my tongue darts out and laps up the stickiness that’s covering her skin. Harper moans in appreciation, then juts out her chest, wanting more. One thing I’ve learned about Harper is she always wants more. And I always want to give her fucking more.
Once I’ve licked her clean, I circle my tongue around her perfect, pink nipple. Her hands grip my hair and she tugs on the strands.
I’m moving my way down her sticky body, licking and sucking on her flesh, when I hear something that sounds a lot like a door slamming and someone saying something.
I glance up at her. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” she whines, wanting me to keep going.