Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Her face is bright red, even the tips of her ears. God, she’s pretty. “My bad,” she snorts. “I just mean, if we don’t have outside relationships, what will be the expectations of sex?”
My cock springs to life, and I groan inwardly as it forces itself against the zipper of my jeans. I’m not a fan of boxers, but in moments like this, I wish I were. I run my hand down over my mouth, trying to will my cock to stand down. It doesn’t work. I don’t know what to say, but before I can even come up with something, she adds, “A year without sex is a long time.”
“It is,” I agree. “I’ve gone six months already, and it sucks.”
She eyes me incredulously. “Six months?”
“Yeah, reformed manwhore,” I say, pointing my thumb at myself. “It sucks, but I’ll follow your lead. I’m not sure how to navigate that.”
It’s a fucking lie. I know what I want. I want to slam her into the nearest tree and fuck her until neither of us remembers our name. I want to drown between her legs. I want to hear her scream my name as she gushes around my cock. I want her lips on me, around me, against me. I want her. My voice is ragged as I say, “Like I said, I haven’t had a relationship. I’ve only ever fucked, and I don’t want to complicate things with you even more with sex.”
She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth the way I’d love to do. “And by complicate things, you mean developing feelings for me.”
“That won’t happen,” I say as strongly as I can. “I don’t want this, McDavid.”
I instantly regret my comment when she recoils. I suck at communication. “For someone trying to convince me to do something, you’re doing an awful job,” she throws at me, her voice sharp. “Every girl wants to hear that the guy she’s going to marry doesn’t want her.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want you,” I correct, and I don’t know why I said that. I’m supposed to be aloof to her. I don’t want to make her think I want more than I’m asking for. Her eyes lock with mine, and I’m breathless at the sight of the beautiful heat swirling in her hazel depths. With the way the sun shines on her eyes, they sparkle. It’s as easy as breathing to be honest with her. “I said I didn’t want to be married.” She looks away and shakes her head. God, I suck at this. I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “What would you want from this…marriage?”
Her eyes cut to me, though she doesn’t turn her head. She looks away, crossing one arm over her stomach as she exhales. “I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you,” she says, still not looking at me. “I haven’t had luck in the dating world. It’s been shitshow after shitshow. I like the idea of a constant companion, someone I can share my life with and who will offer me a chance to live a great life for a change. I didn’t grow up in the best environment, and I yearn to be settled. But that’s not what you want. You want a friend. And while I want the coffeehouse, I don’t know if this is doable without me catching feelings.”
I have questions, but if she wanted to elaborate, she would have. So I don’t ask as my heart falls into my gut. “I understand.”
“I want to help you, though,” she says quietly, and hope burns in my chest. “I believe in you, and I want you to get to the NHL.”
I look over at her, stunned. “You do?”
“I do, because you deserve it. You’ve worked hard. Yeah, you fucked up at the beginning, but everyone messes up in their lives. If I can help you, I want to, but I feel like we haven’t even agreed to this and it’s already complicated.”
“I don’t want it to be,” I say quickly, my heart slamming into my ribs. “I want this to be as easy as it can be.”
“It won’t be, though,” she says simply. “We’re two different people with two different views on how this should go.”
But doesn’t she feel the chemistry? I know this can work. We can make this good.
“Okay, how do we meet in the middle?”
When she stops, I do too. We turn to face each other, and I grip the straps of my backpack tighter when she looks up to meet my gaze. She’s so small, so fucking adorable. As I stare into her eyes, I want to give her whatever she wants. I want to make her happy because she wants to help me. I swallow nervously and wait. I don’t know why she stopped, and I sure as hell don’t know what to say.