Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I just can’t resist you, but I made a promise.” I wink, tucking my dick back in my boxer briefs and zippering myself back up.
We arrive at Ciao and some eyes are on us; I’m so used to it, but Ava looks unnerved. I don’t like it. This was my attempt to treat her like she deserves. We needed a date night.
“What’s wrong, Ava?” I reach over and take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers.
“Nothing.” She gives me a smile, but it’s not a genuine one.
“Babe, I’m getting better at reading ya. What’s wrong?”
“It’s silly, but I’m nervous.” She blushes sweetly. Damn, that’s cute as fuck. Twenty minutes ago she was down on her knees deep-throating my cock, but now she’s nervous. God, I love this woman.
“That is silly. Honestly, all I can think about is peeling you out of that dress, sprawling you across the table, and having you for a meal.”
“Tobias, someone will hear you.” Her cheeks get even pinker, if that’s possible.
“Good. Let them know that I find my woman sexy.” I smirk, arching my brow.
The server comes up and takes our order. I don’t even remember what I ordered because I can’t stop staring at Ava. There’s something about her that makes me not want to miss a moment in her presence. Never have I ever felt that way. Not even with a high school girlfriend when my hormones stirred up my emotions. Nothing but football caught my attention that much, but Ava’s more than that to me. I live and breathe to be willfully captivated. God, I sound pathetic to myself, but I need her for the rest of my days.
The server brings us both ravioli and pours us a glass of wine. Ava takes a bite of her ravioli and lets out a moan that drives me wild. “I think my dick just banged against the bottom of the table with that one.”
“What one?”
“That sound, baby. Every time you moan, I get hard as hell.”
“You’re always hard,” she whispers.
“For you.”
“Just eat.”
“Oh I’m planning on it,” I say, licking my lips.
“I meant the dinner on your plate, you horny cowboy.” She rolls her eyes at me, but there’s that sexy smile instead of that fake shit she tried to toss my way earlier. That’s all I need.
“Fine. I’ll be good. So tell me—what is it that you want to do once you’re wealthy?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought that far. I was working on a Business degree before I disappeared. I haven’t dropped out yet, so I better contact their offices soon because I’ll have all F’s in my classes and then my overall GPA will suck when I eventually finish.”
“Can you take those classes at another school? Or do you plan to go back to Purdue?”
“Again. Another I don’t know. I really haven’t thought that far ahead.” Good. There’s no rush for her to leave. Maybe she doesn’t want to leave. Can I convince her to stay?
I take another bite of my food as she does because I want to shout out to the world how much I love her. How fucking much I need her. As I take a drink of my wine, my cell vibrates in my pants. It’s a text from John. An issue. Stolen truck. No one around. I take a look at the photo he sent, and it’s my front gate torn down with a vehicle through it.
I reply. Check the house.
Already on it.
“What’s wrong?” Shit. I try to school my expression. I don’t want to upset her. We’re supposed to be on our first romantic date night. I hope one of many.
“Nothing. A minor complication. Let’s enjoy our dinner. I’ll deal with the matter when we get home.”
It’s semi true because a minute later John texts me back House is empty. No one’s been inside.
“Are you sure? You look pissed.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m just pissed that someone is interrupting our beautiful night together.”
“So we never talk about your football career and honestly, I haven’t looked any of it up.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to pry.”
“There’s nothing to pry over. I played for seven full seasons. I was drafted in the first round, so the pay was excellent. Rookie deals aren’t terrible for the first rounders, but they’re not as big as your next contract. When my five-year contract came up, I signed a two-year, fifteen million deal with an option for a third.”
“I was just about to start my third year of the deal when I got the news that my father died. I quit and walked away from the sport. Hell, I only gave a written statement, which came from my agent. I didn’t want to deal with shit. Landon came in and kept the press away.”
“Do you regret playing?”
“Hell, no. I regret taking that last year. I’d already started losing the love for it, my parents told me I had a long time before I had to take over the ranch and that I didn’t have a long time to play.”