Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Everything and nothing has changed since he left. His whole life is different. He’s living in L.A. and wrapping up his first season in the NFL. He even dated an underwear model for a few weeks last fall. But I’m still the same girl he fell asleep next to. The one who’s never been kissed and can’t get over her childhood crush, even though she knows he’s entirely out of her league.
It’s twenty minutes until midnight, but I’m suddenly too tired and too self-conscious to announce my arrival. I slip up the stairs and head to my bedroom, changing into flannel pajamas before sliding into bed and cracking open Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I’ve already read it three times, but there’s something about returning to a favorite that is as comforting as a well-worn blanket.
It’s not long before I hear the sounds of everyone downstairs counting down to the new year. I wonder if Easton’s kissing that pretty blond girl. I wish I didn’t care.
I close my book, roll to my back, and stare at the ceiling. I could have gone to a party with kids from my high school tonight. There’s a cute boy in my honors English class that asked if I’d be there. His name is Steve, and the way he smiled when he said he hoped to see me made me blush. But I came here instead, and I don’t even bother lying to myself about why. I wanted to see Easton.
There’s a knock on my door, and I roll my eyes. I bet one of my brothers is checking to see if this room is empty so he can hook up with someone. “I’m in here,” I say, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
The door cracks. “That’s what I was hoping.”
Easton. My heart sprints, stumbles, falls flat on its face.
He steps into my room, grinning, and shuts the door behind him. “Why weren’t you downstairs?”
Because I realized I’ll never be pretty enough, and I hated myself for thinking that way. Even if it’s true. I sit up in bed and lean against the headboard. “I didn’t want to be around so many people.”
This is a ridiculous explanation when I could have stayed home tonight, but he nods as if it makes perfect sense. “I kind of feel the same. Do you mind if I hide in here with you?”
“Won’t your date be disappointed?”
He arches a brow. “My date?”
I’m making a fool of myself. “The blond girl who was rubbing herself all over you?”
He lifts his chin. “Ah. I think her name’s Sasha, but I’m not interested. I’d rather hang out with you . . . if you don’t care?” The question is laced with enough doubt that the shield around my clumsy heart falls.
I swallow and will my pulse to slow. I don’t want to be so desperate for his attention, but here I am. “Sure. I’m just reading.”
Grinning, he crosses the room and studies the books on my shelf before grabbing my copy of The Stand.
“King,” I say, nodding. “Good choice.”
Easton toes off his tennis shoes and stretches out in bed beside me—him on top of the covers, me beneath, just like on draft night when he was having an anxiety attack. He opens his book and I open mine.
“Happy New Year, Short Stack,” he says softly.
The old nickname makes me smile. “Happy New Year.”
I wake up to the feel of a calloused hand on my stomach, fingertips sweeping underneath my shorts. My body is awake—every nerve ending at full attention—but my mind is foggy and I have to blink into the darkness a few times before I remember where I am and who I’m with.
Easton.
Easton is touching me.
His fingers sweep across the waistband of my panties, and I gasp, arching instinctively. I must’ve fallen asleep while reading. The lights are off and he’s spooning me, his front flush to my back, and when I shift, the hard length of him presses along my ass. “Easton?” My thighs clench, and it’s all I can do not to tuck my hips and lead that hand to where I want it—where I’ve imagined it a thousand times before. “Are you awake?”
He moans into my neck and grips my hip, holding me against him.
The instinct to arch into his touch is so strong, but I have to know if this is real. “Easton?” My mind is foggy from sleep, but my body is more alert than ever. Every inch of my skin is aware of every movement he makes.
Suddenly he releases my hip and pulls away. My body goes cold everywhere he was touching me. “Shay?”
I drag in a ragged breath. Shit, shit, shit. “Yeah?”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I was dreaming and . . .” I hear his swallow in the darkness.
I roll to face him, but I can barely make out his silhouette in the inky blackness. “What were you dreaming about?”