18. Austin
EIGHTEEN
AUSTIN
“Thanks for the invite, man,” I say to Jett as I walk down the stone path toward my truck.
“Drive safe,” he replies from the doorway, lifting his hand in a tight wave before closing himself inside.
It’s girls’ night, which means the guys and I got together while they did whatever it is that they do in Bailey’s spa room.
And since I was the only one who didn’t have a tipsy woman to get into bed, I offered to stay and help him clean up.
Sadly, Paris wasn’t able to make it to tonight’s festivities.
Lennon wasn’t feeling well at the boys’ game earlier today, so she declined the invite.
I told her I could swing by with some dinner, but she insisted that I hang with the guys.
It was stupid of me to agree, though, because all I did the whole time was think about her.
It’s been almost two weeks since our first kiss, and aside from a few quick ones when the coast has been clear around the office, we haven’t been alone.
I’ve been itching to get my hands on those sweet little curves, and to have her taste on my lips.
But I completely understand why she didn’t want to leave Lennon with a babysitter, and I don’t blame her for it one bit.
That woman is the best, most selfless mother in the world.
Nothing could tear her away from her babies when they need her.
The moment I walk into my house, I head to my en suite bathroom and hop into the shower.
It was an early morning at the Renegades facility, setting up for today’s youth games, and I barely even had time to eat and change before I had to be at Jett’s.
The hot water feels amazing against my tired muscles, but I can’t seem to get my mind to slow down like it normally does at the end of the day.
I’m too worried about whether or not Lennon is feeling better, and if Paris has gotten an opportunity to eat while caring for her.
Realizing that there’s no way I’ll be able to relax unless I talk to her, I quickly wash myself off, drag a towel over my wet skin, and wrap it around my waist. It’s late, so I decide to text her first, just in case she’s asleep.
I’d feel like a dick if I ended up being the reason she woke up after a long, tiresome day.
ME:
Hey, beautiful. You awake?
My heart does a flip in my chest the moment three bubbles begin jumping on the screen, telling me that I caught her before exhaustion pulled her under.
PARIS:
Yeah. Just lying in bed, reading a book now that everyone is sleeping. Len’s fever finally broke, and the boys were out like lights the second she stopped crying. It’s the first moment of quiet I’ve had all day.
ME:
That’s good to hear. What are you reading?
Bubbles appear and disappear several times, causing my brows to pull tight in confusion.
I was honestly just trying to keep the conversation going, but the fact that she’s contemplating her reply so much has me wondering if maybe it’s a question I shouldn’t have asked.
But when it finally does come through, my intrigue skyrockets.
PARIS:
It’s a spicy romance book.
About a football player and his best friend’s sister.
Oh, shit.
My cock immediately begins to thicken beneath the towel, my hand lifting to give it a gentle squeeze.
It does nothing to quell the arousal that’s already headed straight between my thighs, filthy thoughts of Paris reading something like that running rampant in my mind.
I wonder if she chose that particular character dynamic for a reason, or if it was solely a coincidence.
I’d like to think it’s the former, but the way all the girls pass around their latest reads—which are usually football-related since all their men play for a living—who knows?
But fuck me, I need to find out.
Without another thought—because apparently, all the blood has vacated my brain and traveled south—I pull up her contact info and hit CALL.
My heart pounds wildly behind my rib cage, my fingers itching to wrap around my aching cock and stroke.
But I refrain, waiting on bated breath until finally, she answers.
“Hello?” she says on a quiet breath. She’s so fucking sexy that I don’t even need to see her to be rock hard.
Just the thought of her all alone in bed, romance book in hand, is sending my imagination into overdrive already.
Do the spicy parts turn her on? Do they make her so wet that she has no choice but to lower her hand under the covers and touch herself?
Is it some hot, shirtless model in her mind when she does, or is she picturing somebody else?
Goddamn. Please be me.
“Hey, Baby Girl,” I greet her, relaxing into the pillows.
My growing erection strains against the soft terry cloth, but I do nothing to free it, even though I really fucking want to.
I’m a very patient man, though…and for a woman like Paris, I’m more than happy to savor every agonizingly slow second.
“It’s good to hear your voice. I miss you. ”
“I miss you too,” she says, the subtlest of trembles in her reply. If I didn’t know what she was doing before I called, I’d have probably missed it. But there’s no mistaking that breathy, shaky tone. My girl is affected by whatever it is she’s reading.
“So,” I drawl, cutting right to the chase, “tell me more about this book. As a matter of fact”—my hand blindly pats around, locating my e-reader that sits atop the nightstand beside my bed—“what’s the title? I’ll download it.”
“Wh-what?” she stammers, and I can hear the rustling of her comforter.
It only serves as a reminder that she’s in bed right now, likely bare-faced and wearing an old T-shirt and tiny cotton shorts.
I got to see it first-hand the night I cuddled her to sleep, and fuck if that simple little getup isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
I wish I was there with her right now, those flawless curves wrapped around me, but this is the next best thing.
“Come on, Paris,” I croon. “I’m sure your eyes are burning after such a long day. Why don’t you tell me where you left off, and I’ll read to you.”
I can practically hear the wheels in her head turning as she remains silent on the other end of the line.
I imagine this is new territory for her, considering everything she told me before about being inexperienced.
I know she’s only been with one man, and the guy sounds like he didn’t take interest in her wants and needs.
But I want to show her that intimacy can be fun and exciting when you’re with someone who truly gets off on pleasing their partner—a description that fits me to a T.
I stay quiet, allowing her to work through her thoughts as the seconds tick by.
The last thing I want is to make her feel uncomfortable or rush her into something she’s not ready for.
To me, this is a perfect situation—being physically separate while still exploring with one another—if she consents to it.
She exhales another soft, ragged breath, finally responding to my request. “It’s called Hidden Play by Pepper Hart. I just started chapter twenty-seven.”
As fast as my fingers can move, I type in the title, watching as it pops up on the screen.
It’s one of those illustrated covers with the cutesy characters standing in the middle of a football field, but I know better than to assume the inside isn’t absolutely filthy.
All the WAGs read them, and the guys try to outdo their girls’ favorite book boyfriend. Looks like I’m about to join the club.
Moments later, chapter twenty-seven is queued up, and I don’t even have to fully read the first sentence to know that she was smack-dab in the middle of a sex scene when I called.
The word pussy jumps off the page, causing my cock to twitch at the thought of saying it out loud to her, followed by whatever dirty deeds the two main characters are about to engage in.
“Do me a favor, Baby Girl,” I say, my tone low and soothing. “Turn off the lights and get comfortable under the covers, okay.”
“Okay,” she whispers, the reply barely audible as she settles in.
I do the same, putting the phone on speaker and lying it on the pillow next to me as I take a deep breath and give my aching dick one more desperate squeeze.
It takes the edge off a little, but I can already tell I’m going to be fighting for my life the moment I start.
Even the thought of repeating the things on this page and getting to hear her reactions has me on the verge of busting all over this towel already.
“Close your eyes,” I instruct softly. “Let your mind pull you into the story.” She hums her acquiescence, giving me the green light, my eyes focusing on the screen as I begin.
“The only sounds in the room were Hope’s heavy breathing and the slide of skin on skin as she rubbed her thighs together in desperation.
Part of me wanted to make her wait—to be sure her pussy was throbbing before I even laid a finger on her.
After all, if I was going to risk my friendship with her brother by crossing a line he specifically told me not to, I was going to make it count.
But the moment she whimpered my name, the moniker rolling off her lips like it was the only word she knew, my restraint snapped like a rubber band.
“‘River, please,’ she begged, but I was already pulling the lace panties she’d completely soaked down her thighs, the smell of her arousal slamming into me and making my mouth water with the need to taste her.
My cock throbbed behind my sweatpants, desperate for a warm channel to sink into.
But there was no way I’d be taking Hope before she was a dripping, whining mess.
We both knew this could never happen again, so I only had one shot to blow her mind.
Because if I couldn’t have her, I’d make damn sure she thought about me every time she gave herself to someone else.