Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Apollo grunted. “I don’t know yet, but I’m sure I can find out. Maybe he just thought it’d be easier to contest on his end.”
Whatever the answer to this was, when they said how much it was, it made me want to fight that much harder for it. Two hundred million was a shit ton of money. If I had that kind of cash, I could protect Iris from a lot of things. It was time to stop being stubborn about my ‘blood money’ and start thinking practically.
“How do I get the money?” I asked.
“It’s been sent to the state of Oklahoma as unclaimed cash,” Apollo explained.
I scrubbed at my face. “This is a living nightmare. How do you even get that?”
Apollo got to typing again, then loudly clicked the enter key.
“Funds are being transferred in two business days. You should have it by Wednesday of next week.”
I blinked. “But…”
What did one do with two hundred million dollars? Did you have to have a special bank? Did I need an account in the Caymans?
There were so many questions!
“On that note.” Beau squeezed my hip. “Let’s get home. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
I was.
Playing for ninety minutes during a hard-fought game was exhausting. It was even more exhausting when you were sleep-deprived from an overabundance of lovemaking.
Not that I was complaining about that last part.
That little facet about my life would be the most deliciously perfect aspect of it.
I stood up when Beau pushed up on my butt, indicating that it was time for me to get up.
He didn’t remove his hand, though, when he was standing.
He left it there, kept his hold on Iris, and guided us out of Hopps as everyone else waved us on.
By the time we’d gotten home, Iris was so fully engrossed in her documentary that she threw a fit when I asked her to get ready for bed.
Thanks, Shaw.
Beau, thankfully, offered to deal with it while I was getting showered and ready for bed.
By the time that I finished up washing the shampoo from my hair, he was there, joining me in the shower.
His rough hands moved to the softness of my belly and pulled me into his hard body.
Years in the military had honed Beau’s body into a lean, mean, fighting machine.
He was hard all over, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.
He was in better shape than I was, and I’d spent the last fifteen years of my life getting my body into elite shape thanks to my career as a professional soccer player.
If you were to look at the two of us side by side and were asked which one was the professional soccer player, every single one of them would point toward Beau.
I turned in his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck, having to stand on my tiptoes to do it.
The water sluiced down over my waterproof cast and onto his shoulders.
He leaned down, his back blocking the spray, and pressed a soft kiss onto my mouth.
I deepened that kiss, pressing the length of my body against his as I did.
His hard cock was pinned between us, pulsing with each beat of his heart.
I let my hand smooth through his beard, liking that he’d let it grow wild again after selling the Cowgirls.
No longer the face of the organization, he’d been able to go back to his previous style.
“I love this.”
TWENTY-THREE
Somewhere between praying hands and throwing hands.
—Text from Beau to Court
BEAU
“I love this,” she said as she smoothed her fingers through my beard.
“My beard?” I asked.
“The beard, yes,” she confirmed. “But that you let it grow out again. I missed seeing it bushy. I guess that’s just how it was when I met you, and I’ve missed it.”
“Spent twenty years of my life shaving it. I don’t really like having a shaved face, so when I was able to let it grow out, I did,” I informed her “It’s good to know you like the bushiness of it, because that’s all it becomes if I let it grow out. There’s no taming it.”
“Have you tried beard oil?” she asked, once again fascinated with running her fingers through the bushy strands.
“Beard oil. A beard balm. Brushing it. But you’re more than welcome to try to tame it. For the rest of our lives.”
She smiled. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you? You haven’t even taken me out on a proper date yet.”
“What do you call that first time we were with each other?” I challenged her.
“A pity date?”
I winked. “A date is a date, baby. And we had one.”
She grinned, and I couldn’t stop myself from dropping a kiss to that sweet mouth of hers.
She pulled back, letting one hand smooth down my chest.
Then she went farther, dropping down so that she was on her knees in front of me.