Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
He rests his head on his palm and offers me a smug grin as he drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “So you’re saying I’m hot.”
“Need your ego stroked?”
Sobering now, he brushes his fingertips under my eye. “By you? Yeah. I do, baby.”
It’s not often that Ryker is vulnerable. He shields himself fiercely from anyone getting too close to him. Maybe it’s from his shitty childhood, or it’s the cost of fame, but I love that he’s continuing to open himself up to me, especially during a moment that could have turned awkward fast.
“I think you’re fucking hot as hell.” I fold him into my arms and hug him close. “Everything about you is amazing, Ry. Your body is just an extension of that. But shit, it’s a really good body.”
He laughs, and the mood lightens, and then he’s tugging me from the bed.
“Hey, where are you taking me?”
“To the shower. I’m going to clean you up, and then I’m going to fuck you against the tile.”
“I like this plan.”
“I thought you might.”
I surface out of sleep slowly, feeling disoriented. There’s no alarm today, but the sun is already up and shining on my face, and when I crack an eye open, I’m quickly reminded that I’m not in my bedroom.
I’m in Ryker’s room.
And he’s already up and gone.
Every delicious moment from the night before flickers through my mind, making me shiver with happiness.
We had shower sex. Then we had bed sex again, and before we fell asleep, we changed the sheets so no one had to sleep on one of the wet spots. And when Ryker wrapped me up in his arms, I fell fast and hard into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself as I roll and bury my face in his pillow, breathing in the scent of him. God, I’m sore. Muscles I didn’t even know I had weep from all the exercise I got last night. “I had sex with my best friend.”
Was that such a good idea?
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
The sex itself was a brilliant idea. I’ve never been . . . worshipped . . . like that in my life. The fact that some women go through their entire lives never being sexed up the way Ryker can sex a girl up is criminal.
Not that I’ll share him. They can find their own Ryker.
Yeah right, he’s irreplicable.
However.
He’s my person. My best friend. And Aiden and I are living out here with him, all with the purpose of helping my boy, not with the intention of my having a hot affair with the sexy former hockey star. And when this is over, when he decides that it’s time to move on to someone else, well, that’s going to kill me. We may have only had one night together, but I’m good and attached already.
Give a girl roughly half a dozen orgasms in one night, and she’ll get clingy.
“Shit.” I scrub my hands over my face and decide to go take a shower and pull myself together. I pad through his bedroom and open the door, listening. It sounds like I’m alone, so I scurry to my bedroom, close the door, and immediately walk into my en suite bathroom to turn on the shower.
Thirty minutes later, after I’ve washed and shaved and scrubbed all the things, including my hair, I pull on my usual pajama top, which happens to be an old James hockey jersey, and a pair of panties. If everyone is out working, I can walk downstairs like this long enough to make myself some coffee, and then I’ll come back up to dry my hair and put on some makeup.
As I make my way through the house, I hear a whirring noise coming from the home gym, and when I peek in, I see Ryker on the treadmill facing the windows, his back to me. He’s running faster than I ever have in my life. His earbuds are in, and he’s sweating buckets.
How long has he been jogging?
At some point, he shed his T-shirt, so he’s only in jogging shorts and sneakers, and his back flexes as he moves, and my mouth goes dry. At some point, he added tattoos there too. He has the sleeve, the one over his ribs, and ink down his back that is simply delicious.
I’m standing here salivating.
Was it a bad idea to start up a physical relationship with my best friend? Possibly.
Probably.
Am I sorry?
Fuck no.
After giving myself a shake, I walk downstairs to the kitchen and pop a pod into the coffee maker to brew a cup, then open the fridge for my creamer and wait for the mug to fill.
I’m humming, swaying back and forth to sort of stretch out my sore inner-thigh muscles—damn, I’m so sore—and then I get goose bumps, and I feel him. He hasn’t said anything, but I know he’s standing in the doorway behind me.