 by Riley Hart.jpg)
Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Once we made it to the NFL, of course, he landed on the LA Royals, the biggest rivals of my team, the Denver Rush. Everything about him rubs me the wrong way...until one unexpected night, we happen to rub each other the right way, and suddenly I can't get enough of him.
And Patrick can't get enough of me either.
I'm his secret, and he's mine, stealing moments together where he comes undone for me.
There's more to Patrick than I thought, and now one thing is clear to me.
Despite all of the obstacles in our way, Patrick Whitt is mine.
I don't know what it is about Malik Tucker that gets under my skin, but he irritates the hell out of me. Maybe it's that he was drafted instead of me to my dream NFL team, the Denver Rush. Or maybe it's that he's a force to be reckoned with on the field and adored by fans and his family off the field. He seems to be living the perfect life while I live the perfect lie.
And then we have a chance encounter that changes everything.
We keep it professional on the field, but off the field, there's all kinds of illegal contact happening between us. Every time we're together, I'm drawn in deeper, intoxicated by the way Malik makes me feel, the things we do to each other in the bedroom.
At some point, we're going to have to let go, but I'm not sure I'll be able to.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
TUCKER
As I stood in the living room of the house party, watching Patrick Whitt dance in the middle of three girls, all of them vying for his attention, all I could think was how much I wished I could knock the smug expression off his face.
One little punch wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Maybe I could even make it look like an accident…something like…oops, I almost tripped and your face caught my fist? Nah, that wouldn’t work, but maybe I could come up with something else.
Technically, our asses shouldn’t even have ended up at the same party. Sure, we lived in the same Florida town and both played football, but Whitt went to private school and hung out with the other trust fund kids who had more money than someone like me would ever know what to do with. It wasn’t like we hung around in the same circles…but I knew him, and we ended up at the same football camp every summer—one I had to apply for a scholarship to get into. So basically, my existence was taunted by Whitt in more ways than it should be, and I really needed the universe, or whatever the fuck was out there, to stop right now.
He glanced over one of the girls’ shoulders and winked at me. Did he think I couldn’t get girls, too? Maybe it would be a little harder here because I wasn’t wearing designer shit, but I didn’t give a fuck about stuff like that. And I didn’t give a fuck about Whitt.
I turned and made my way through the crowd of teenagers to search for the keg. I found it and waited in line to get my red Solo cup filled. The foam sloshed over the top, making my hand sticky, but I just wiped it on my jeans while I looked for my friend, Dimitri. It was because of him we were here. He was always trying to get into rich kid parties, though I didn’t know why he gave a fuck what the Whitts of the world thought anyway, but he did.
“Yo! D!” I called over the music and people when I saw him. He was in the living room, talking to two girls I didn’t recognize.
“What the fuck, bro. I was looking for you,” he said.
“Not too hard, obviously.” I nodded to the girls. “What’s up, ladies? Is this guy bothering you?” I laid it on thick, and they smiled.
“Fucking idiot,” Dimitri teased. “This is Shondra and Leigh. This is Shondra’s house we’re partying at. Ladies, this is Malik, but everyone calls him Tucker.”
The girls were both gorgeous—Leigh with long, thick curls and Shondra with her hair in purple faux locs. It was Leigh who stepped closer to me. “Hey, Tucker.” Leigh ran her hand down my pec and let it stay there, her bright pink nails vivid against her flawless brown skin. She looked up at me beneath lashes that didn’t hide her interest.
“Hey, girl.” I appreciated her confidence in touching me like that. She flashed a smile at me that I couldn’t help but return. Maybe this party wasn’t so bad after all.
She gave me a smile that I couldn’t pretend didn’t make me do the same thing.
Dimitri and I talked to Shondra and Leigh for a while, which then led to making out with them. We didn’t bother to find a room. I just pressed Leigh against the wall and let my tongue explore her mouth.
“Did you see my fucking catch in the third? No one can touch me. My dad says I’m the best player that Gable High has ever seen.”
I pulled back at the sound of Whitt’s voice pumping himself up. I glanced over. He and a group of people were closer to us than he had been before.
“Is something wrong?” Leigh asked.
No, no, it wasn’t. I’d been kissing a beautiful girl, so why did I pull away when I heard Whitt’s voice? Because he’s a cocky motherfucker and can never stop talking about how much better he is than everyone and his rich dad, who gives him all the support in the world.
My stepdad had been the same—not the rich part but the supportive one—only he’d passed away. My real dad was a piece of shit who had bailed on us when I was young. I shook those thoughts from my head, hating that Whitt made me think about stuff like that. Especially when someone had their tongue down my throat.
I kissed her again, but every time I got really into it, his stupid fucking voice would interfere, and I’d stop. Leigh huffed and leaned in, and we tried again, but my brain was back with Whitt, wondering why I couldn’t hear him anymore. Had he left?
“Is something wrong?” Leigh crossed her arms.
Before I had the chance to reply, the bane of my existence was standing beside us. “I heard that’s a problem for him…satisfying women,” Whitt said with a smirk.