Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“As you said, we never see ourselves the way others do.” My smile is wry. “I guess I’m a better actress than I think. And anyway, why would I have a clue about your feelings? You never looked at me either.”
At that, he drops his arms with a scowl. “Oh, I fucking looked. You simply never looked back.”
“And none of the girls you hooked up with were remotely like me—”
“There’s a reason why none of them were like you. Because if it couldn’t be you then I was damned well not going to settle for a weak copy.”
Heat prickles behind my lids. His words, the emotion in his expression . . . I want to hold him close. Soothe away all those past hurts. But he’s on a tear now.
“Are you going to keep arguing with me on this, Pen? Or are you going to accept that I love you, just as you are, and always will?” He looks so good standing there, irate and flushed. Strong and tall and mine.
Giddiness returns. I’m floating with it. “No more arguing. I love you, August. So much.”
It’s as though I’ve winded him. He sinks to his knees before me. Eye to eye now, he searches my face. “Say it again, Penelope.”
Now that I have, it’s easy. Like breathing. “I love you. I love you.”
His answering grin is like the sun, bright and hot. Then he kisses me with such quiet intensity, my insides go soft as warmed butter.
He’s mine. He’s mine.
Laughing, I tackle him. He takes my weight easily, holding on as I wrap myself around him like a monkey, then stands to set us both back on the bed, chuckling as he flops against me. I kiss that smiling mouth. August hums in pleasure and deepens the kiss, his hands gently touching my cheeks, trailing through my hair, finding the small of my back. Soft words of love flow from his lips.
Love. Loving him used to be so hard. I struggled to ignore it for so long. Now it’s everything. A balm. A gift. I sigh in pleasure.
We do nothing more than kiss each other, touch like we can’t believe this is real. The sun sinks low in the sky, and we’re cuddled up on the bed, limbs intertwined.
Idly, August toys with the tips of my fingers. “I have one more confession, then I’m done.”
“If you say so.” I’m so happy now, he could tell me anything and I’d still be floating. August loves me.
“When we started this agreement, you asked me if there was any risk of me falling for you, and I said I’d already found my true love in football.”
“I will never resent sharing you with football.”
“I know that. But I was lying.”
Lifting my head, I meet his gaze.
Silver eyes are soft with emotion. “I meant you. I loved you before football. And one day, when I can no longer play the game, I’ll love you still.”
“August Luck, you say things like that, and I can’t think.”
He chuckles, ducking his head to kiss me. “You’re my everything. You’re my reason.”
“Gaahhh!”
His laughter deepens. Hauling me close, he rolls between my legs and braces himself above me. “I kind of like flustered Pen.”
“Oh, that’s good,” I say with a breeziness I don’t feel. “You keep talking like that and you’ll see a lot more of her.”
He’s still grinning as I grasp the back of his neck and pepper kisses over his face. “You should know,” I say, between kisses. “Wherever you go, however you choose to live your life, no one is going to love you as much as I do.”
He closes his eyes and nuzzles my neck. “Still feels like a dream hearing you say that.”
“For me too.”
“You know,” he says after a moment. “I almost hate to bring it up but you never really said anything about my fake fiancée plan.”
“Oh, well, the whole ‘I’ve loved you forever’ dual confession side-tracked me.”
He nips my earlobe. “You’re not upset about what I did?”
“Should I be? I suppose . . . But when I think about you doing all that just so you could spend more time with me . . .” I shrug. “I don’t feel upset. I think it’s kind of—”
“Don’t say it.” The dark warning has me grinning.
“Hey. I thought you claimed sweet as ‘your’ word.”
“Mine to veto at will.”
“You only get two vetoes a year.”
“A year? But I’m sweet way more than—”
“Aha! You admit it.” I poke his side, loving the way he yelps, ticklish and laughing. “Now that I think about it, your pet name should be ‘Sweets,’ not mine.”
“Penelope?” Quicksilver eyes twinkle.
“August.”
“I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too . . . sweetie pie.”
“Veto.”
Epilogue
August
“Sweets?” I close the front door, kick off my shoes, and set the car keys on the hall table. “Where you at?”