Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“That was amazing,” she whispers.
“It really was.”
She looks deeply into my eyes. “Is this going to be complicated?”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“But will it?”
I shake my head. “Not for me.”
“Good,” she says.
She finally slips off my lap, and we stretch out on the couch together. Bailey lays her head on my chest, and she begins tracing circles on my chest with the tip of her finger.
It’s an odd question for her to ask, and I don’t know exactly what she means by things between us becoming complicated. The only thing that makes any sort of sense to me is if by complicated, she’s referring to how devoted to our jobs we both are.
Emotions are messy. They’re complicated. It’s the biggest reason why I’ve always avoided emotional entanglements. I can’t afford the distraction of high, emotional drama. And I get the feeling Bailey feels the same way. But as I place a gentle kiss on the crown of her head and revel in the warmth of her body, so soft and yet so firm at the same time, pressed close to me, and feel the rhythm of our hearts beating together, I realize that I’ve been fooling myself.
I’m already emotionally entangled with Bailey Greene. That bond we share is based on deep emotions.
My entire life has been dedicated to one purpose and one goal—to achieve greatness. I’ve always seen emotional entanglements—love—as a distraction and a detriment to that goal. But I look down at Bailey and listen to her soft, even breathing as she floats close to the edge of sleep. For the first time in my life, I find myself wondering if it’s possible to have both.
Maybe I’m wrong, and this is going to be complicated after all.
10
BAILEY
“Great,” I say. “Thanks for your time.”
“Anytime,” Assistant Coach Cave replies and walks away.
After an incredible night with Ben—including two more rounds, one in the shower and one in the bed—I woke up early and scurried home to clean up and get changed.
My body is stiff and sore in places I didn’t know I could be, but it’s a good sore. It brings images of the things Ben and I did together last night to my mind, filling me with a warmth that runs from head to toe and makes my skin tingle deliciously.
I see Ben come out of the locker room and head onto the court. He stretches out and talks to Gabe White, the team’s big, bulky center. They laugh and smile with one another, the bond of friendship and camaraderie between them easy to see. It’s not often I see the lighter side of Ben.
Whenever he steps on the court, the only side of him we see is the darkly competitive, stone-cold killer his opponents always see. It’s nice to see that he actually has a lighter side and knows how to have a little fun when he steps between the lines.
I stand off to the side of the court watching them warm up with a few sprints and run some drills. I watch his muscles ripple as he moves, his body like a sculpted work of art. I admire his physique and remember the way it moved when we were together last night.
The memory of him picking me up and manhandling me the way he did makes me shudder and sends a rush of warmth through my body that concentrates itself between my thighs, immediately making me uncomfortably wet. A smile crosses my face when I think about making him taste the anticipation I’ve been feeling all day when I see him later tonight.
Loud and boisterous, my brother and his friend walk out of the tunnel and onto the court, laughing and carrying on like oversized children. The smile immediately slips from my face, and I catch sight of Ben glaring at Eric. What Ian said to me the other day comes to mind and makes me wonder just how far my jealous and insecure brother will go to torpedo Ben. It’s a thought that bothers me to no end.
“Hey.”
I turn and see Ben standing a few feet away, a smile on his face. I was so caught up in my thoughts and worries about my brother that I didn’t even see him walk up. I do my best to jettison those thoughts and return his smile.
“Hey yourself,” I say.
“How are you feeling?”
“A little sore,” I admit. “I feel like I went through a pretty strenuous workout yesterday.”
He laughs. “That makes two of us.”
“But you’re a finely tuned athlete,” I say. “You should be used to strenuous workouts.”
“Oh, I am,” he replies and steps closer to me. “And I do like to stay in peak physical condition, so why don’t you come by tonight and work out with me again?”
I laugh. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Good,” he says. “After practice, maybe we should grab a bite then—”