Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
London was at the end of the hall, standing with Persephone and Langley.
Our eyes locked, and she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to hide a smile. “Good game, Sterling. You too, Briggs,” she said as we passed the group.
“Thanks,” he answered, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Have fun at dinner.” I gave her a wave and bit back the nauseating jealousy that crept up my throat. We hadn’t been alone in almost a week. She was always working or with Foster, and I was always working or traveling…with Foster.
Either way, it was physically painful to walk away from her without so much as touching her hand, but I managed.
“Don’t do it,” Briggs said as we made our way into the players’ parking lot.
“Don’t do what?” I hit the button on my remote and unlocked my car.
Briggs shook his head. “You honestly think anyone in there couldn’t see the level of eye-fucking going on in that hallway? I almost asked if you needed a condom.”
“Uh.” I paused. Shit. Honestly, I thought we’d been pretty good about hiding it.
“Look. The unwritten code of not fucking someone’s sister is there for a reason.” His tone changed, going tight. “Trust me. If it’s between the girl and the team, you choose the team. Choosing the girl only gets you fucked over.”
Well, then. “I’m not fucking anyone,” I said honestly. “And I sure as hell didn’t hear you giving Maxim the same speech.”
He laced his fingers behind his head. “Because I don’t give a shit if Maxim gets the fuck beaten out of him by Foster, or traded off to the minors.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
His face went blank. “I’m just saying that you don’t shit where you eat, and the Reapers feed you, Sterling.”
“I get it.” I did. But I also didn’t give a fuck. I’d seen Cannon marry Persephone, and Axel and Langley were the picture of domestic bliss.
The door opened, and Foster walked out with his arm around London, laughing at something she’d said while Maxim followed them.
The nausea in my gut churned into something that burned as I watched the three of them drive away. She hadn’t even looked my direction once.
Briggs looked at me knowingly and then climbed into his car.
I’d never been a guy who was hung up on labels, but damn, what the hell was going on with London and me?
8
London
The crisp fall air had way more of a bite to it in Chicago than it did in Charleston. The wind was sharp against my cheeks, stinging them to a rosy red as I stood outside the hotel.
But despite the chill, heat flooded my skin beneath my too-light jacket.
Because Maxim Stolov and Jansen Sterling were posing for post-win promos—the historic hotel’s clean and classic architecture providing an awesome backdrop.
The photographer had the brothers posing in their post-game gear—black Reaper athletic pants and white Under Armour long sleeve shirts. They were both freshly showered, the evidence still clear from Jansen’s slightly damp hair. I had no idea how he wasn’t freezing, but he didn’t seemed bothered by the kiss of cold in the air.
He didn’t seem bothered by anything, actually. From the second I’d grabbed the two for their promos, he’d adapted this cold kind of calm that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. His crushing blue eyes were normally filled with emotion, whether it be a sensual look meant to drive me crazy, or a teasing flirt to make me laugh, or a rage-fueled stare with just a hint of pain whenever Maxim came around.
But not here.
Not for the camera.
He’d kept good on his word—not even flinching when the photographer had them stand back to back, arms crossed over their massive chests.
In this snapshot in time, they actually looked like brothers. Not so much their physical appearance, which was slightly varied, but in the way they both stared down the camera. Fierce, hungry, and cocky after an away game win. They looked like they might actually grab a drink at the bar after this—their features were that smooth.
Professionals, the two of them.
But, God, could they be more gorgeous? The wealth of muscles and sharp eyes was indeed the source of heat flushing my skin—the brothers anyone would have a hard time ignoring. Langley had been right when she said the promos would boost the Reaper image. Maxim and Sterling were impossible not to appreciate, to admire…to want.
My eyes naturally gravitated toward Jansen, and I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. I swear I could still taste him despite it being a week since he’d thoroughly kissed and wrecked me in the movie theater. And this time…it wasn’t because I’d needed the distraction, but him. I’d needed him on a level I still didn’t understand. Craved his kiss like a starved woman.