Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I push my thoughts away. I need to concentrate on the here and now. I grab one of my big, fluffy bath towels. I could fit two of me in this thing and that doesn’t happen that often when you’re overly fluffy. I walk out into my bedroom, my head down as I take a much smaller towel and use it to scrub against my scalp and try to dry my hair slightly that way. I’m too tired to deal with a blow-dryer tonight.
“You kept my damn jersey, Buttons,” Ryder says, his voice raw.
I gasp, jerking my head up, my gaze moving to the opposite side of the bed where Ryder is sitting. He’s holding the Astros jersey that he gave me in high school. I swallow, my mouth and lips suddenly feeling very dry.
“Uh…”
“You kept my jersey,” he whispers, emotion still thick in his voice.
“I know I should have given it back,” I respond, faltering to figure out how to get past this.
“All these years, Tillie, and you kept my jersey.”
“Are you mad?” I ask, because there is some kind of emotion swirling in the room and I honestly don’t know what to do with it.
“Yeah. I’m mad, Buttons. How often did you fall asleep with my shirt covering your body?”
My body jerks with his response. He’s mad? “Ryder—”
“How often, sweetheart?’”
I swallow nervously. “How do you know I wore it at all?”
“Because even though I wore it to practices, I had Mom hand wash it and be very careful while handling it. That means it looked like new the day I gave it to you, sweetheart. It’s well-worn now.”
“Oh,” I murmur, starting to think that I underestimated Ryder’s attention for details all these years. Shit.
“How often, Tillie?”
“I haven’t worn it in years, Ryder.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” he corrects me, and I sigh. I was hoping he would let it drop, but that’s becoming clear that it’s not going to happen.
“Quite a bit,” I answer vaguely.
“How often is quite a bit?”
“Is this important? If you want the jersey back, take it. I don’t wear it anymore.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I repeat.
“Yeah, Buttons. Why? Why did you stop wearing it.”
“Silly dreams die,” I mutter.
“What was your dream?”
“Will you quit, Ryder? You don’t get to ask me these questions.”
He gets up and walks to me. The oxygen seems to leave the room. I back up slowly, but he just keeps coming. He picks me up, then sits on the bed with me in his lap. “I need these answers, Tillie. Give them to me.”
“Ryder—”
“Give them to me,” he repeats.
“You’re an asshole.”
“I know, but I need this.”
“I stopped when I saw you with… with her.”
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“And before that, Buttons. How often did you wear it?”
“Almost every night,” I confess, hating that I’m so pitiful.
“Right,” he says and there’s a muscle twitching along his jawline. I resist the urge to rub it with the pad of my thumb.
“I’m sorry I made you mad.”
“You didn’t,” he denies.
“But you said—”
“I’m mad at myself, Buttons. I was a fucking fool.”
“Ryder.”
“Give me your lips, Tillie.”
I could argue, but I’m not going to. I stretch to press my lips against his. Instantly, his tongue runs along the seam of mine. I open for him, and his tongue comes inside, deepening the kiss. He swallows my moan as his tongue sets about claiming my mouth—and that’s exactly what he does.
It’s over way too soon and when it’s done, I rub my lips together.
“You’re mine, Tillie. You always have been and now, sweetheart, I’m claiming you,” he responds.
His words make my heart slam fast against my chest. “Claiming me?”
“Yeah, Buttons. I’m totally fucking claiming you,” he practically growls.
Tillie
I wake up, feeling warmer than usual. My apartment is mostly a basement and stays fairly cool. I open my eyes and remember that I went to sleep in Ryder's arms, and they seemingly stayed wrapped around me all night.
I close my eyes, savoring this feeling for a moment. Me wrapped in Ryder’s arms.
All night.
It feels good—so good that I’m sure most of my defenses against Ryder Monroe are now completely gone. Last night was something I didn't expect, but practically everything I could have asked for. Even now with my head on his chest, my ear pressed against his beating heart, it feels like I’m in a dream. It’s also a dream that I harbored for years. It should definitely be said that reality is like a million times better than fantasy.
I pull slightly away—just enough so that I can look up at him. His chiseled jaw, the angles of his face, the long sweeping eyelashes, all of it is perfection. My eyes close and my pussy clenches as his words from last night come back at me in his graveled voice. It was a voice full of desire and need. It was directed at me, and I know the sound of it, along with what he said, will stay with me for the rest of my life.