Hate the Game Read online Winter Renshaw (Love Games #1)

Categories Genre: College, New Adult, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Love Games Series by Winter Renshaw
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
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Chapter 47

Irie

I’m waiting at his apartment when he gets back from the gym Friday night, balanced on the edge of his kitchen island with the dopiest grin on my face.

He drops his gym bag at his feet, letting the door slam shut behind him, and he makes his way over, settling between my thighs, his hands on my waist.

He smells like soap and his hair is damp from the locker room shower and his hand is warm as it caresses my cheek. His thumb grazes along my bottom lip and a moment later, he kisses me soft and deep, burying his fingertips in the hair at the nape of my neck.

“I talked to Kira today,” I say when we come up for air. “I turned down the job. We’re doing this …”

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Terrified. Mostly,” I say. “But when I look at you, all of that goes away.”

“Good. It should.”

“How about you? How are you feeling?”

“Like a million fucking dollars.” He kisses me again, pulling me against him before sliding me off the counter. A second later, he’s carrying me back to his room, dropping me on the center of his bed. “Contract is signed. Assholes got a piece of my mind. And now I get to spend the night with my favorite girl. Doesn’t get better than this.”

“We need to find a place to live,” I tell him.

“And we will,” he says. “We’ll find a home. Our first home. And you’ll have free rein to do whatever you want to make it ours.”

His left hand moves to the waistband of my shorts, un-popping the button before gliding the zipper down.

“I love you,” I tell him as his mouth peppers a trail of kisses down my lower stomach.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel every single emotion all at the same time, but this moment is proof that it’s possible. I’m terrified about the future, exhilarated with hope, giddy with love, and hot with desire all at once.

Talon slides my shorts down my thighs, followed by my panties, and then he shoves his gym shorts down. A moment later, I’m pinned beneath him, his cock hot and throbbing against my sex.

“I love you more,” he says as he buries his face into my neck, nibbling at my ears as his left hand veers between my legs. He teases my seam before circling my clit with his thumb. A second later, he slides two fingers inside me as my hips buck against him.

Suddenly I’m feeling anything but terrified.

He reaches over me, grabbing a condom from his nightstand, and I kiss his rounded shoulders, his skin still warm from his workout and the hot shower that followed.

I breathe him in—the man I adore more than anyone in this world. His musky, soapy scent. And I’m intoxicated.

Intoxicated with love, with hope.

They say good things are worth the wait—and while I didn’t always consider Talon a good thing … I’m so glad I waited before giving him a chance.

He was more than worth it.

Chapter 48

Talon

I hand Irie a coffee when she gets to anthro Monday morning. It’s the first day back after spring break and the lecture hall is packed with exhausted faces who don’t want to be here—but not us.

Every day that passes is a day closer to graduation.

And the day after graduation, we’re packing up our U-Haul and hitting the road.

“Aw, thank you.” Irie takes her drink before unpacking her notebook and pen from her bag. “Did you get that link I sent you last night? The townhouse in Richmond?”

“I did.”

“And? What’d you think?” she asks, taking a sip.

“I think you need to dream bigger, baby.” I give her a wink before stealing a kiss.

“I don’t think we should get carried away just yet. Oh! I wanted to show you something,” she says before reaching into her bag and pulling out a hardback textbook. A moment later she flips to a page marked with a neon orange Post-It and hands it over. “Found this last night by pure chance.”

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It’s a plan your father designed,” she says. “I found it in one of my exteriors textbooks.”

According to the blurb beside the picture, it’s called Talon’s Edge.

“I’ve never seen this one before,” I say. “And I thought I’d seen them all.”

“It was one of his last projects,” she says. “Isn’t it beautiful? Look at those clean lines and that symmetry. It’s perfection.”

I flip to the next page and find an image of the interior layout.

“I’m going to build this,” I say, tracing my fingertips along the preserved image. “For us. In Richmond.”

“Talon, this is eight thousand square feet …”

“I don’t care. This is it. This is our home,” I say, nodding. “What do you think? You up for tackling a project like this?”

Her eyes widen. “It’d literally be a dream come true. But are you sure you want to do this?”


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