Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
She throws me a thumbs-up over her shoulder before walking through the door and disappearing into the bathroom across the hall.
Definitely not a morning person.
After tossing on a shirt and mesh athletic shorts, I find my brothers in the kitchen—to my surprise, they’re alone, nary a neighbor girl to be seen.
“The other twins still sleeping?”
Drake shakes his head. “No. Tiffany said something about her contacts needing to be taken out, so they didn’t spend the night.”
“Ah.” More like she didn’t want to be seen without the fake black lashes and gobs of makeup, but that excuse works, too.
I pad to the coffee pot in bare feet and retrieve two mugs from the rack, pouring one for myself and one for the hellion upstairs. “Ryann will be down in a minute. She’s peeing.”
Drew nods. “Can’t believe she actually spent the night. I thought she despised you.”
“She does.” Mostly.
Eh. Maybe not so much anymore. I have a feeling I’m wearing her down. Plus, that kiss last night helped.
The kiss.
Gave me a raging boner and several sex dreams, but that’s a discussion for a different day.
I pull at the crotch of my shorts, adjusting my dick.
Carry the two coffee mugs to the kitchen table and plop down, my brothers fussing around as per usual. Since they’re constantly hungry and always wanting food, they’re usually the ones who cook.
Drew sets a plate of steaming hot pancakes in the center of the table as Ryann enters the kitchen; a plate of scrambled eggs follows, cut-up turkey sausage mixed in. Bowl of shredded cheese for topping, maple syrup, butter, fruit.
Drake leans over from his spot across the table, long arm stretching, hand grabbing at a pan of day-old cinnamon rolls from the bakery up the block.
Carb load.
Calorie load.
Hydrate.
“Gee, is this all we’re having?” Ryann yawns as she takes a seat, eyeballing me suspiciously when I slide a mug toward her. “What’s this?”
“Coffee, black. I didn’t know how you like to take it.”
Drake snickers.
“I meant what she likes in it, asshole.”
Ryann rolls her eyes. “You guys are such idiots.”
“She’s not a morning person,” I tell them over the lip of my mug, sipping.
“You don’t say,” Drew deadpans wryly, scooping a giant wad of scrambled eggs onto his plate, then immediately topping it with cheese so it melts.
“And for the record, I like my coffee with soy milk and a few sweeteners.” She goes to work filling her plate. “Mostly I don’t love coffee, and I don’t usually need it to perk up in the morning.”
I cough into my hand. “Liar.”
“You’re calling me a liar?”
“Ryann, you’re still half asleep—bullshit you don’t need something to wake you up.”
“Something to wake me up,” she muses. “Would have been nice.”
Is that a smirk on her face? It’s hard to tell. She has the mug tilted up to her mouth, but the look in her eyes tells another story, one my brothers are hanging onto every word of.
Is she making an innuendo? So early in the morning?
“What’d y’all do last night?” Drake wants to know.
He’s balls deep in a cinnamon bun, a glutton for carbs in any form.
“We played truth or dare.”
“The fun kind of truth or dare or the regular kind?”
“Define fun kind.”
He’s chomping the roll like cud, holding it between his fingers, licking at the frosting like a slob. “You know, naked and dirty dare.”
Ryann answers the question before I can. “It was a mixed bag of fun and regular. Things only got risqué once.”
Try three times, or has she forgotten about the KISS ME written in marker above her pussy and the fact that we made out before falling asleep?
Drew begins a coughing fit, a guilty coughing fit if I’ve ever seen one, the fucker who walked in on Ryann and me when I was hell-bent on licking her dry, barging through the door like a puppy with no manners.
“Y’all wanna ride to the stadium together or what?” Drake changes the subject, down to the business of our workout this afternoon with the special teams coaches.
Just because we don’t have a game doesn’t mean we don’t practice or at least work out.
I cut the pancake on my plate, stack a few pieces on my fork, and take a bite. “Considerin’ I’m the only one with a vehicle, guess we’re all ridin’ to the stadium together, dipshit.”
“Valid point.” He turns his attention to my guest. “You comin’ to our next game, Ryann?”
Ryann hesitates, glancing over at me. “Er, no.”
“Why not?”
“Um…I don’t have tickets.”
They’re nearly impossible to get, but not for students, although getting tickets the day of can be challenging. Can’t walk up to the box office and buy them; this shit has to be planned in advance, even when the team is having a losing year—which is never.
“Dallas can get you some,” my brother tells her. “How many d’you want?”