Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Speak for yourself,” Blue says, spearing another bite. “My grunt account is a kind of a big deal on Instagram.”
“It is,” I agree, laughing as Baylor continues to look confused. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t know about Grunt Hard?”
“Grunt Hard?” Baylor’s brow furrow deepens. “Do I want to know about that? It sounds nasty.”
“It’s not,” Blue says. “It’s just fans posting game footage.”
“Game footage of Blue grunting loud enough to be picked up on a camera mic. Which he does. A lot.” I make an effort to keep the huskiness from my voice as I tease, “And it is a little nasty.”
“No, it isn’t,” Blue says, with a shake of his head.
“Yes, it is,” I insist. “I guarantee the women driving those videos to a million views aren’t thinking about you grunting while you’re smacking a puck around. They’re thinking about you grunting while you…” I clear my throat, forcing my attention back to my lasagna as my cheeks start to burn again. “You know.”
He does know.
And I certainly know. I’ve indulged in repeated watching of the Grunt Hard feed myself a time or two. But that was before that night in Blue’s kitchen, before I knew firsthand that he doesn’t grunt when he’s having sex.
He hums and growls and says the most deliciously filthy things in this matter-of-fact, perfectly Blue sort of way that drives me totally out of my—
“Anyone save room for dessert?” I ask, cutting the thought off before it can dive back into the gutter. Thank God, the boys’ plates are finally clean. The end of this dinner might finally be in sight. “Makena brought some gluten-free cupcakes from her new bakery truck. They look amazing.”
They do look amazing, but I have zero appetite for food right now. I had to force down every bite of salad and lasagna. The only thing I want to devour is the hot-as-hell man blushing as Baylor teases him about being lady-spank-bank material.
But Blue’s off-limits until my brother decides this “checking up on the little sis” visit is over and goes home to his loving fiancée.
With that in my mind, I add, “Or you could take some home for you and Charlotte for later, Bay. I bet she’ll be starving. She never has time to eat when she’s running an event.”
Baylor nods, his eyes lighting up the way they always do when the topic turns to his favorite person. “Yeah, I might do that, if you don’t mind. She was bummed that she couldn’t come with me tonight. She wanted to check in on you and Clover, but her assistant is sick, and she can’t really trust anyone else to take point on big events just yet.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say, reaching for my crutches. “Makena brought two dozen. Even if all three of us go ham on them for the next few days, there’s no way we’ll be able to eat them all before they get stale.”
“I’ll take your plate,” Blue says, collecting it from the table before I reach for it. “And get Tupperware for the cupcakes. I know where you keep it.”
“Thanks,” I say, a fizzy feeling rising inside me as I dare to hope that Blue might be as eager to get rid of my brother as I am.
Even half as eager would be a staggering amount.
I honestly wouldn’t wish this level of friskiness on anyone. It’s too much. I feel like a pot about to boil over.
The Scottish mamas who hung out at the pub on summer afternoons, letting their kids play on the swing set while they had a pint, tried to warn me. They swore that as soon as the morning sickness faded, I’d be “up on the buckle” and “full of the joys.” Eleanor put it more bluntly, insisting, “You’ll be climbing the rigging and any man who’ll stand still long enough, hen. Best get you a lover before the drouth hits ye full force, or you’ll be clawing at the wallpaper. I near hand lost my mind waiting for Gerry to get off the ferry when I was big with the last one.”
I’d laughed it off at the time.
Assumed it was a cultural thing. Or a married woman thing.
In any case, it seemed to pass me by. The morning sickness faded, but my sex drive remained at near rock-bottom levels. Sure, I’d touch myself every now and then, just to make sure everything was still operational down there, but never with much enthusiasm. Or urgency.
But I’m feeling the urgency now, all right.
I really, really am.
If Baylor doesn’t get out of here soon, I might have to go claw at the wallpaper in my room to keep my hands to myself.
Finally, finally, the plates are in the dishwasher, and Baylor is headed for home with a Tupperware container full of cupcakes, circling back to the Harvest Ball benefit as we walk him to the door. “Just let me know if you want a ticket soon, okay? They’re almost sold out.”