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)
I collapsed on top of him and gave myself over to the warm, postorgasmic haze. I’d been all over the world in my life, but being tangled up with Tucker was easily my favorite place.
He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from my forehead and then turned my face toward his, eyes still touched with intensity. “You mean that about me being the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“Yeah.” It was an easy confession.
“You’re always mine?”
“Always yours,” I said, rubbing my thumb over his lower lip before I kissed it.
One week later
The first time I’d ever gone to the Super Bowl, my parents had taken me. It was the one and only time they had, and it had only happened because they were trying to woo the bigwigs of some other corporation. We’d sat near the fifty-yard line. I’d been eight, my love for the sport just undefined, casual interest back then. But the energy in the stadium had captivated me—it was so electric, all of the people in the stands cheering, the players on the field going for broke in the biggest event of their careers. I’d gone home on fire for the sport, begging my parents to let me play in a peewee league, and probably assuming it’d be a passing fancy, they had.
This was the first time I’d attended not just as a spectator but as someone deeply invested in the outcome. I’d never wanted anything as bad in my life as I wanted Tucker to take home a ring. Tucker had played it cool all morning, but I knew he was feeling it, too, and was doing his best to stay calm and centered.
“Bring me home a ring,” I’d texted him earlier.
“I got you, baby,” he’d replied, and it was such a damn Tucker thing to say that I’d burst into laughter.
His mom had invited me to sit with them, which I’d managed for all of five seconds before I was on my feet. Zuri joked that they needed to add extra floor space for people to pace because she could tell that’s what I wanted to be doing. I just couldn’t sit still, could barely stand still, my body full of anticipation and nerves as the Rush and New Orleans had gone head-to-head in the first half.
I’d not even dared to message Tucker during halftime, when they were down by 7, because I didn’t want to risk distracting him, but he’d texted me anyway.
Tucker: So what do I get if we win this thing?
Me: Anything you want.
Tucker: Anything? (*Big eyes emoji*)
Me: Literally anything. Quit messaging me and focus on kicking ass.
Tucker: I’m a good multitasker.
Me: You feeling good? Nothing’s hurting? Ramsey’s okay?
He’d taken a hard hit during the final seconds of the second quarter.
Tucker: lol. We’re all fine, you damn worrywart. Even if I was hurting, pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to feel it. Gotta go. See you after we take this thing.
I grinned and pocketed my phone.
“How’s he holding up?” Tucker’s mom asked.
I narrowed my eyes playfully at her. “How do you know who I was texting?”
“It better only be my son, or I’ll kick your ass myself.”
I broke into laughter. “You wouldn’t have to because he’d do it first.”
“I’d get a kick in once you were down, then.” She nodded resolutely, and I threw an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I said, bending closer to her ear. “I’d kick my own ass before I’d let anyone—or anything—else get in the way of me and Tucker.”
We quieted as the teams trotted back out for the second half. The Rush evened up the score in the beginning of the third quarter and were neck and neck with New Orleans going into the fourth. I was on pins and needles the entire time, hoping for just one more fucking touchdown that would give the Rush a tiny bit more breathing room, but it wasn’t happening. Both teams fought tooth and nail, holding each other off with every turnover of the ball. As the minutes ticked by in the fourth quarter, it looked like they might head into overtime.
I’d thought I was antsy before; now, it was like I had ants crawling all over my body.
The Rush called a time-out with a minute left on the clock, and I stared at their huddle like I could hear what was being said, eyeing Tucker for any sign of exhaustion or stress.
A cool hand over the top of my own made me glance at Kayla, standing at my left. With a soft smile, she looked pointedly at the railing I was gripping. “You’re gonna dent that thing you keep squeezing it so hard. Never knew you were so high-strung.”
“I really want this for him.”
“I know. It’s one of the reasons I like you.” She patted my hand and let go with a smile.