Illegal Touching (The New York Nighthawks #10) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
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“Please stop saying sexting.” Walking toward her, I shook my head with a sigh. “I don’t even want to know where you come up with this stuff.”

Glynnis quirked a brow, planting a hand on her hip in a sassy pose. “I’ll have you know that I put a lot of effort into keeping up with the times. It’s one of the reasons I’m so adept at attracting my gentleman callers.”

Hoping to distract her from telling a much too detailed story about whatever she’d gotten up to during one of her recent dates, I gestured toward the bag. “Thanks for bringing that up for me.”

“My pleasure.” She handed the gift to me with a sly grin. “And I really mean that since I only brought it up so I could see what’s inside.”

“Oh, wow,” I breathed as I pulled out an LED ticker that could track stocks and would fit on my desk.

“That boy gives good gift.”

Rhodes was hardly a boy, but I could understand why she would call him that at her age. “He really does.”

“Hang on to him.” She winked at me. “Especially if he’s as good at giving orgasms as he is gifts.”

My cheeks heated as I whispered, “Um…I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Maybe not yet, but I saw how he looked at you last night.” She wagged her brows. “Like a lion eyeing up its next meal, with zero doubts in its mind that it’ll be able to catch what it's hunting.”

Considering how I’d wanted to beg him to come up to my apartment when he dropped me off after our date, Rhodes had every reason for that certainty. But I wasn’t sure what to think about her analogy. “So I’m his prey?”

“Only if you’re really lucky.”

I sputtered out a shocked laugh and turned around to set up my gift before Glynnis came up with something even more outlandish to say. I loved my landlady, but I wasn’t always sure how best to handle her. Even after three years.

After I finished getting the LED ticker up and running—and discussed Glynnis’s stock portfolio since she’d had me take it over last year—the buzzer went off.

She rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, another surprise from your sexy footballer?”

“Have you been watching British shows again?” I asked as I padded over to the panel to see who was at the door and buzz them in. While we waited for the food delivery, I explained, “I’m pretty sure footballer only refers to soccer players since it’s used in Europe.”

“Pish posh,” she chided with a laugh, making me giggle.

There was a knock on the door, so I grabbed the bag, the delicious aroma of Italian food wafting up toward me. “Thanks.”

“Enjoy.”

“Mmm, that smells yummy.” Glynnis peered inside the bag as I carried it over to the kitchen counter.

“Rhodes ordered me lunch from the restaurant we went to last night.” She gave me an odd look, so I explained, “I mentioned how much I wished I hadn’t eaten it all at dinner because I was kind of craving it today.”

“I said it once, but it bears repeating”—she wagged her finger at me—“Rhodes is a keeper.”

“I’m the last person who would argue with you about that,” I assured her, dishing up the manicotti onto two plates to share with her. “But unfortunately, my uncle isn’t on the same page when it comes to Rhodes and me dating. We met while I was at that charity gala with him and Aunt Brie, and he warned him off me.”

She waved off my concern. “Just handle him like I do with Don…pretend you’re doing what he says, and then do whatever you want.”

I handed her a plate before grabbing silverware from the drawer. “You don’t have any better advice than that?”

“Sorry, girlie.” She shook her head. “You’re on your own.”

At least for the short term, I would seriously consider what she suggested. I refused to be a distraction. Updating my uncle on the status of my dating life would have to wait until after the Nighthawks finished their season.

6

RHODES

“We’re headed to The End Zone tonight,” Cole O’Hara, our offensive coordinator, murmured as he walked beside me across the tarmac.

“I have somewhere to be.” My mind was already focused on who I would see, so I didn’t notice Gage falling into step on my other side. The running back elbowed me in the ribs, and I tossed him an annoyed glare.

“Come on, man. We have to celebrate!” He was grinning so big that it looked like his face might break. But his exuberant attitude was understandable. We annihilated the opposing team in the wild card game today, officially giving us a spot in the playoffs. I was beyond ecstatic, and normally, I’d be at the club getting smashed with my teammates. Today, though, there was only one person I wanted to celebrate with.



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