Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Have I mentioned that Summer is a crazy person?
A follow-up text quickly appeared demanding that I leave Taylor in Summer’s fashionista hands to prepare for our night at the club. I think Taylor felt bad that the girls might have felt excluded, so she agreed to do the whole girl thing with them and meet me here later.
Not gonna lie—I was worried about leaving her with those chicks. Taylor’s done great at adapting to the guys. Hunter’s roommates, on the other hand, are a fucking handful. It was with some misgivings and a warning to call me if they tried making her cut her hair that I left her in Summer, Brenna and Demi’s clutches.
Now we’ve been at the club an hour already and I’m starting to wonder if I should organize a search party.
This place is slammed wall-to-wall. Even some of the Minnesota players showed up, along with another team from New York City. When I spot number nineteen at the bar, he offers to buy me a shot, and I accept because my pride never gets in the way of free booze. While we’re mostly relegated to communicating with hand signals and nods, I think we manage to squash the beef. Until next season, anyway.
Eventually, our teams merge around the end of the bar and take turns jabbing each other and shouting war stories over the DJ’s set list. As much as we want to hate them, the Minnesota guys seem cool. Though I’ll feel a lot better if we’re the ones buying their pity drinks next year.
As I’m checking over my shoulder toward the entrance for the fiftieth time looking for Taylor, a face catches my eye. Just for a second, but then he’s gone. Hell, I’m not even sure I saw him at all among the strobing lights and pulsing bodies. Despite the knot in my stomach, the sudden bolt of adrenaline, I assure myself that my eyes were just playing tricks on me.
“Jee-zus,” exclaims number nineteen, whose name I couldn’t hear when he tried to shout it over the music.
Foster follows his gaze and releases a sharp wolf whistle. “Holy fuck, Con. You seeing this?”
My brow furrows. I turn around but can’t figure out what they’re gawking at. Until two blonde heads catch my attention in a sweeping beam of light.
Summer and Taylor are making their way through the crowd. They’re tailed by Brenna and Demi, but everyone whose name isn’t Taylor ceases to exist for me.
I think I drop my glass. Was I even holding one? Everything else filters into the darkness until it’s just Taylor, walking toward me in a tiny white dress glowing under the UV lights. Her hair curled, makeup done. That sexy beauty mark above her mouth that makes her look like a modern Marilyn Monroe. That’s my girlfriend.
I must look like a total jackass striding over to her while trying to hide a hard-on, but fuck me she looks stunning.
“Dance with me,” I say at her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist.
In response she bites her lip and nods. Just that little thing makes my dick twitch and I’m not sure how we’re getting out of here without me ripping her dress off.
“You’re welcome,” I hear Summer say, but I ignore her, single-mindedly pulling Taylor toward the throng of dancers.
“I suck at dancing,” Taylor tells me as I gather her into my arms.
“Don’t care,” I mutter. I just want to touch her, hold her. I know she can feel my erection as her body melts against me. I want to ask her what she wants to do about it but I’m not that fucking drunk yet, so I hold my tongue.
“Just don’t let me look stupid,” she says, finding it easier to speak in my ear now that she’s wearing heels.
“Never.”
I place a kiss on her neck, feel her skin erupt in goose bumps in response. Then she turns to face away from me, presses her ass against me while she dances, and I bite down so hard on the inside of my cheek I taste blood.
“You’re killing me,” I groan, slowly sliding my hands down her body, savoring every sexy curve.
Taylor looks over her shoulder and winks. “You started it.”
Someone suddenly taps me on the shoulder, a dark-haired guy I make out from the corner of my eye. I assume he’s asking to cut in, and I’m prepared to tell him to fuck off when that knot in my gut returns.
“Hey, Con,” a voice from the past drawls. “Fancy meeting you here.”
My stomach drops, a wave of queasiness washing over me. I shutter my eyes and paste a completely expressionless mask on my face.
“Kai,” I say coolly. “What are you doing here?”
He does the same gesture I’ve been doing all night—signaling he can’t hear me. “Let’s go talk over there,” he says, pointing somewhere past my shoulder.