Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
If they went to bed together, would it be understood they were exclusive, even if she refused to say it out loud? Burgess didn’t have a clue and he wanted to push for clarity, but his discipline was wearing thin as fuck and he wouldn’t survive Tallulah running back to her room behind the locked door, so he bit his tongue.
His strategy wasn’t working. He’d have to try hers for a while.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rusted. “We’ll call it a massage.”
Relief seemed to trickle through Tallulah, her shoulders losing some of their tension. She nodded once, hesitated, then walked to the bed, climbing onto the high king-sized mattress on her hands and knees in a way that made his cock swell. The sweatshirt was so huge on her, he couldn’t see much of her body, but he could imagine the curve of her ass, the lithe flex of her thighs. How her panties would cup her between the legs. Jesus. He swallowed hard at the sight of her kneeling near the edge with her hands folded on her bent knees, in his sweatshirt, obviously waiting for him to come sit down in front of her. It felt like a dream. Only he knew it wasn’t, because of the pain weighing down his balls, the way his heart thunked in his throat.
Do you even know how to play it cool anymore?
God, he didn’t want his relationship with Tallulah to be casual, because nothing he felt for her was remotely fucking casual, he wasn’t going to turn down the chance . . . for whatever was about to happen here.
When it came to this one woman, he was losing the battle with his willpower.
But if she’d come for casual and he walked in there panting like a dog with his heart on his sleeve, she’d recognize they weren’t on the same page and put on the brakes. And she might never show up in his bedroom again. No, he’d let go of his need for transparency tonight in the hopes that whatever they did on that bed brought her back for more.
Burgess snagged a bottle of lotion from the bathroom vanity, then made his way slowly into the room, thanking God for the darkness that kept his secret. The low bathroom light spread across the bed, illuminating Tallulah partially, enough that he could see her lips part as he approached, her gaze stroking down his bare chest and stomach, her fingers curling into fists on her bent knees. That proof of her attraction gave Burgess some confidence, but not enough. Not as much as he used to have.
What if there were new ways to hook up that he didn’t even know about?
What if she needed to be touched a certain way, and he couldn’t read the signs?
Had he thought this through properly?
Calm down, man.
It’s a massage.
They were calling it a massage.
With a fist-sized object lodged in his throat, he turned and sat down in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life, handing her the bottle of lotion over his shoulder, before realizing that might be presumptuous. “You don’t have to use that . . .”
“No, I want to. It’ll make it better.”
Her hands were going to be on him. How much better could it get?
At the sound of her squeezing the bottle, he was forced to close his eyes, the anticipation of her touch was so severe. He focused on keeping his breathing deep and even, but if the lights were on, she would see the rapid-fire pulse at the base of his neck, the way his hands were clasped so tightly in between his knees there was no blood left in his knuckles.
The slippery sound of the lotion being warmed in her hands ceased—
And then, her hands were on him. In the center of his back, smoothing the lotion downward where his injury lurked, throbbing sharply like a bad tooth. She found it with the same precision as always, her thumb digging into the meat to the right of his spine and working around, around, causing a shuddering groan to escape his mouth.
“Good?”
“You have no idea,” he managed.
“How does the muscle feel?”
“It’s just a strain,” he evaded automatically.
She hummed a reproof. “Since you won, maybe I’ll let you get away with that tonight.”
A thank-you got stuck in his throat because oh fuck, her buried thumb felt so good. Maybe this was only going to be a massage. If so, he needed to stop thinking about turning around and nudging her backward on the bed, finding out if she’d come for more. Giving her more. Giving her everything he knew how to give.
Casual.
Stay casual.
“Speaking of our win tonight, I couldn’t help but notice you were heckling the ref like it was your job. Did we make a hockey fan out of you?”