Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“I want you to come inside me.”
He hesitates, face contorted. Sex face, I call it.
“Are you sure?”
Worst time to be discussing it, and I get that. But sometimes the worst decisions happen when you’re feeling your best, and well, I’m feeling my best.
“Yes…” Oh God, yes.
We’re kissing when he comes inside me; somehow, that always makes coming better. Hotter. Don’t ask me why, it just does.
And Duke is the first one of us to move, sliding out, climbing off the bed to get a rag so he can wipe me up and I can clean off, pulling me into him when we’re back in bed.
Tired.
“Posey?”
“Yes?”
I kiss his neck.
“I’m excited.”
I smile into his chest, wanting to squeal and wiggle my toes with happiness. “Me too.”
“I’m glad you’re gonna be with me.” Duke squeezes my hand below the covers.
Me too. “Are you scared? To change teams, I mean?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I was scared. It’ll just be different. New fans, same city I grew up in, but”—he shrugs again—“guess I am a bit nervous. What if I play for shit?”
“You’re not going to play for shit.”
He’s quiet then. “I think havin’ you around will help center me. That sound weird?”
“No.” It sounds nice.
Everyone wants to be needed the same way everyone wants to be loved for who they are.
I’ll keep him grounded, and he empowers my inner badass.
Next to me, he sighs loudly. “When is June gonna get here?”
I smile in the dark. “Not soon enough.”
epilogue two
Duke
Four months later
“Babe, can you grab me a bottle of water?” I glance behind me on the couch at Posey, who’s puttering in the kitchen.
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, she’s handing it to me from behind, leaning over and wrapping her arms around my neck in a backward hug. “What are you up to?”
“Giving my brothers a call. I had something I wanted to discuss with Dallas.”
Posey kisses me on the side of the neck. “I can give you your privacy…”
“Don’t worry about that. In fact, you can sit next to me if you want to say hi. They’ll be surprised to see you here.”
Here.
My place in Dallas—the penthouse in the sky that used to be used by our pops but hasn’t been used until recently. Old memories—not all of them good—in this place, but I hope to create new ones. Posey helped me sage it when she got here a few weeks ago. We walked from room to room with some weird-smelling weed wrap, the smoke filling all the bedrooms and doorways as she said a blessing.
Actually, she tried to make me say the blessing, but I felt like a fucking idiot, so she had to do it.
“You think so?”
Is she being serious? “It’s good for them to see me happy. They need to see what a healthy relationship looks like.”
I’ve decided that Posey and I are going to be an example for my brothers; the one they didn’t have with Pops and Mama because my father was too full of himself to appreciate everything good that came his way. He just took, took, took, and I’ll be damned if I show the same lack of respect.
Dallas, Drew, and Drake were younger when Pops died—I’m all they have as a male role model. And now that Posey is in the picture, they’ll be better for it.
“Come sit down next to me.” I pat the space beside me as an invitation.
Once we’re seated, I place my laptop on the coffee table and video message my brother.
“He better answer. I told him I was callin’.”
Dallas doesn’t answer. Not on the first try, anyway—I have to call him again, the second time a charm.
“Sorry,” he says. “I was takin’ a shit.” His eyes widen when he sees Posey sitting next to me. “Oh shit—sorry. I meant, I was going to the bathroom.”
“Hi, Dallas.” Posey leans forward and gives him the cutest little wave. God, I want to fuck her right now.
“How’s it going?”
My hand slides over her thigh; I notice my brother noticing from the screen on my computer but don’t bother to remove it. Let the little bastard look.
I can’t remember a time when the kid was dating anyone. He’s just like me, and I don’t consider that a compliment.
“Things are good. Finals are soon. You know how it is.”
I nod. “How are your grades?”
His head bobs up and down. “Good, good. Think I might squeak by with a three point seven.”
Nice. That’s impressive given how much time is dedicated to sports, training, and practice on top of a full course load. Not all athletes can pull off the balance; I’m proud to say my brother is one of them.
“So I’m callin’ for a reason.”
Dallas leans forward on his couch, clasping his hands and resting them on his knees. “Yeah?”
“I was talking to my agent—you know Eli Cohen?”