Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me.
Abso-fucking-lutely none.
Just as I trace along the inside of her knee, Waffles launches herself up onto the couch, her tiny body landing on Lilah’s stomach.
Lilah bursts into laughter, one hand going straight to the kitten. “Personal space doesn’t exist for you, does it, Waffles?”
I grin, grateful for the interruption and also slightly resentful that the kitten cock-blocked me.
“She’s just making sure I behave,” I mutter.
Lilah’s smile falters just a little. “You’ve been nothing but kind and sweet.”
If she only knew how hard it is to keep my hands to myself, she wouldn’t say that.
I clear my throat and gently lower her foot from my lap before I do something we’ll both regret.
“You know what? I’m more tired than I thought,” I say with a forced yawn, rising to my feet. “I’m gonna take a shower and then hit the sack.”
Lilah tilts her head, a small frown tugging between her brows. “Oh. I thought we were going to go over your upcoming schedule.”
I nod toward the tablet on the coffee table. “It’s all there if you want to take a look. We can dive into it tomorrow.”
Before she can say anything else, I make a beeline down the hall like my ass is on fire.
The second I hit the bathroom, I plant my hands on the marble counter. Massaging her, hearing those little sounds she made, feeling her relax under my touch, was too damn much.
I stare at my reflection and know the truth without needing to say it out loud.
I am in so much fucking trouble where this woman is concerned.
9
LILAH
Okay, so maybe Steele wasn’t lying when he said he needed help managing his schedule. One thing’s for sure, his itinerary is a disaster.
I sit cross-legged on the couch, tablet propped against my knee, trying to make sense of the never-ending stream of commitments. There are PR events, sponsor obligations, and media appearances. Not to mention practices, games, and charity functions.
Does this man ever get a break?
A tiny meow pierces the air, followed by the gentle pitter-patter of paws across the hardwood. Waffles hops up onto the couch beside me, tail flicking before plopping herself down on the tablet. She’s only been here for a few hours but already, she’s made herself at home.
“Waffles.” I sigh, nudging her gently. “I love you. Unfortunately, your fuzzy little butt is not compatible with a touchscreen.”
She lets out a purr and tucks herself in more snugly, completely unfazed. I slide the tablet out from under her belly and glance back down at the schedule.
Wait a minute…
“A photo shoot?” I blink. “Steele has a photo shoot tomorrow morning?”
How didn’t we talk about this?
He disappeared about fifteen minutes ago to take a shower before going to bed.
Judging from this calendar, I can understand why he felt the need to sack out so early.
I lean against the cushion and stare at the ceiling for a second, wondering how long he’s been handling all this by himself. Beside me, Waffles stretches and lets out the tiniest squeaky yawn before curling back into a little ball of fuzz.
“Your dad’s gonna run himself into the ground if he’s not careful,” I murmur. “Good thing he’s got us now, huh?”
She blinks up at me like she couldn’t agree more.
“All right, you stay here and hold down the fort. I’ll be right back.”
When she doesn’t object, I take that as my cue to move forward with the plan.
With one final look at Waffles stretched out on the couch, I head down the hallway to where the bedrooms are located. My bare feet are silent against the wood floor.
I find Steele’s bedroom door cracked open, and rap my knuckles against the wood.
“Steele? Are you still awake? I have a few questions about the schedule tomorrow.”
I wait a beat, then two.
For a handful of seconds, I consider turning around and heading back to the living room. But the need for answers regarding his itinerary wins out, and I carefully push open the door before peeking inside. The room is shadowy, the only light coming from the bathroom as steam drifts from the doorway.
As I take a few steps toward it, I spot a pile of discarded clothing on the floor. It’s the same hoodie and sweatpants he wore at dinner. Not to mention a pair of gray boxers.
Oh.
Oh.
The small pile of dirty laundry is my signal to turn around and get the hell out of here.
It’s not like we can’t discuss the photo shoot in the morning.
The water shuts off until it’s nothing more than drips hitting the tile.
I take a hasty step in retreat as Steele moves into view. The sight that fills the space is all it takes for air to clog my lungs.
The man is dripping wet.
And naked.
So very naked.
The first thing I notice is that there isn’t an ounce of fat on him. He’s all chiseled strength and toned musculature. Every inch is sculpted like a marble statue. His damp hair clings to his forehead as water trails down his pecs and over well-defined abs.