Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
He grabs my arm and has me on my back, his body covering mine. “What do you want, Taylor? You want me to make you come again?”
I peek up at him and just about melt from his beautiful blue eyes and those long, perfect lashes. As much as it kills me to feel something for him, I do. That much, I can’t deny. But how does this relationship work? Every girl on campus has seen his dick. They think he’s a manwhore. What does that make me, his actual whore?
We stare at each other for several seconds without speaking before I break the silence. “I’m hungry. I think I need to eat something. My stomach is still a mess from last night.” He almost looks disappointed, so I add, “But you can make me come later.”
With that, his smile brightens. He slides off the bed, fixes his boxers back into place, and then holds out his hand to me. My eyes travel over his thick, muscular thighs to a pair of black boxer briefs that hug him in all the right places. His legs are so solid they look indestructible. I can’t imagine facing him on the ice. He’s a wall of man, most of his body blocking the net.
By the time I reach his chiseled stomach, I’m licking the drool from my lips. A low rumble echoes from his mouth, but he says nothing. He’s used to girls gawking at him. And why wouldn’t they? Look at him.
He opens a drawer and throws a pair of black boxers in front of me on the bed. Does he own any other colors? “Put them on.”
Clutching the cotton in my hand, I stare at him like he’s crazy. “Why?”
He sits next to me. “Because Shannon makes us breakfast every morning, and I thought you’d want to wear something else beneath my shirt.” He extends his hand to me. “C’mon. If we don’t get down there soon, we won’t have anything to eat.”
I slip into Drake’s boxers, and then he tugs on my hand to lift me off the bed. Once we’re in the hallway, I get stage fright. Nerves creep up the back of my throat, the bile almost choking me.
Drake notices my hesitation and stops. He cups the side of my face with his big hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Bex told me your friends slow clapped for her the first night she slept here with Preston.” I lean my back against the wall, and he lowers his hand. “I don’t want them to slut shame me for sleeping over.”
“One…” he says, holding up his long index finger, “… you’re not a slut to shame you. And two,” he says, adding another finger, “You’re with me. And I’ll kick their fucking asses if they even think about it.”
“Technically, that was three things,” I point out. “Not two.”
He shakes his head, his laughter filling the air. “What am I gonna do with you, woman?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
After a quick peck on the lips, he drags me by the hand downstairs and into the kitchen. Bex is at the table next to Preston wearing his clothes. She looks at me, shocked to see me wearing Drake’s. I grab the hem of Drake’s shirt. Bex does the same with Preston’s Strickland Senators tee. We both laugh.
“Morning, twinsie,” I say to her, joking as I sit at the table next to her. “I see you’re dressed in the sleepover attire.”
We’re literally wearing the same hockey T-shirt and our men’s boxers.
Drake and Preston look at each other, confused until they realize what we’re talking about.
“Oh, shit,” Drake says, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, this was definitely accidental. We don’t have clothes lying around for when girls sleep over.”
“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow at him. “How often is that?”
He sits next to me and lowers his voice. “Never. You know that.” But when Preston glances over at him, he raises his voice and adds, “Because they don’t last that long.”
I pat his knee, deciding to play along. “Well, when you put it that way, I feel like I made it to the end of The Hunger Games.”
Bex snorts. “More like The Hooker Games.”
Laughing, I slap her on the arm playfully. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll take out my bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.”
Drake and Preston laugh at our exchange.
“You sure know how to pick ’em,” Preston says to Drake talking about me. “I like this one.”
“Me, too,” Jamie says, dropping a plate of crispy bacon at the center of the table. “She knew what VR meant. Not like you losers.”
Drake squeezes my hand over his, pinning it against his thigh.
“I hope you like waffles,” Shannon says from the island at the center of the kitchen. “I made tons of them.”