Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
The stairs creaked under my weight, and I paused for the thirtieth time that morning.
“What are you doing?”
I sucked in my breath and looked up. Shay was at the top of the stairs, shirtless, and his sweats rested deliciously low on his hips. I managed a smile. “Experiencing a new term called ‘stairway of shame.’” I cracked a grin. “I’m going to call a cab to avoid that one.”
He groaned, scratching his chest idly. “Get your cute ass up here. I’ll change. We’ll get breakfast. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“You have your Jeep here?”
He nodded, yawning. “I got a ride to the bar last night.” He motioned for me to follow him. “Come on. I could use a shower, too.”
I followed him and somehow found myself in the shower with him, grabbing on to the showerhead as Shay was thrusting inside me ten minutes later.
I gasped, and he adjusted his hands, holding me upright as I tightened my legs around his waist.
After we both climaxed—which was another whole holy-fuck-shit-mother-of-God moment—my legs were definitely weaker, I fell to his bed and rolled onto my back. “Your dick is out of me, and I swear that I’m feeling withdrawals.”
He barked out a laugh, reaching into his closet. He pulled out another pair of sweats and a couple of shirts. He tossed a sweatshirt my way, along with a smaller pair of black pants. I asked, “What’s this?”
“I’m taking you to breakfast. Figured you wouldn’t want to wear the same clothes from yesterday.”
He had a point. Mine had smells I didn’t want to identify. I pushed onto my elbows so I could watch him as he began pulling on his sweats and sweatshirt.
I groaned, falling back down. “You’re going to ruin me. I just know it.”
He laughed, tossing my bra and underwear at me. “Do you want those?”
I grabbed them and wrinkled my nose. They were filled with smoke from the bar, but they’d have to do. I wasn’t willing to be completely willy-nilly. Sitting up, I started to dress.
My entire body was satiated. I hadn’t felt like this since a really hard workout, and I’m talking my senior year. I was feeling the same effects, even some of the same sore spots, but this one had been so worth it.
A few minutes later, we headed down the stairs as Shay explained that a few other football players lived on the same floor with him. The house was divided so each floor was like its own apartment, but the biggest kitchen and living room were on the main floor. While some might use the second floor or third floor’s living room, the main floor was the main hub of the house.
I asked, as we went down the stairs, “What floor are you on?”
His hand touched my waist. “We’re on the third. The least amount of rooms and the most privacy.”
We were nearing the door that attached the stairway to the main floor and the kitchen. I could hear voices, male and female, along with dishes and chairs scraping over the floor. Someone was coming toward us, and as we got to the end, Shay leaned around me and flicked the lock on the door. The knob turned, and we heard, “Who locked this door?”
Shay urged me outside, and we hurried.
Once we got on the driveway and walked to the street, he explained, “I didn’t want to deal with a lot of ribbing this morning.”
I shrugged. I was okay with that.
He caught my hand and led me the rest of the way to his Jeep Wrangler. Fifteen minutes later, we were heading inside a little diner.
I knew we should have a real talk, but I didn’t want to. I knew who this guy was. He was near a celebrity at our school, and he was sleeping with me. It wasn’t normal for a guy like him to be with a girl like me, but it was happening. Maybe I hated him at the beginning because I knew this was where we were going, or maybe because I could sense he’d affect me. Or maybe it really was because he reminded me of Parker.
I tilted my head, considering him . . .
Shay looked up from his menu. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” And that was the answer to my internal question. Nothing. I couldn’t find anything in him that was like Parker, except that he was the last guy I had between my legs. Maybe that counted? Maybe that was the reason for my dislike?
As if sensing my thoughts, Shay ordered us both coffee and leaned back after the hostess left. His face grew guarded.
“What’s going on with you? Already remembering that you hate me?”
I shook my head, admitting the truth. “I don’t hate you.” Maybe I never did—well, I wasn’t going to go that far. There’d been genuine dislike. I couldn’t pull that out of my ass.