Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
He growls before I can drop back down to my feet, hauling me up in his strong arms to kiss me properly. The world spins around me, falling out of focus. I latch onto him, clinging to his shoulders as he kisses me so thoroughly that there isn't an ounce of breath left in my lungs. There's just him, everywhere.
"That's how you say hello to your man, sweetness," he rasps against my lips, his voice low and breathless, before he burrows his face into my throat. "Christ, I missed you."
My heart turns another flip. "I missed you, too."
"Yeah?" He pulls back, his eyes on my face. "You missed me?"
"Like crazy, Briggs," I say solemnly.
He kisses me again, not caring that we're in the middle of the airport, blocking access to baggage claim. Not caring that there are dozens of witnesses. He just kisses me like he has all night.
When he releases me this time, people are staring.
"Shit," he mutters when he notices, blindly reaching for the handle of my suitcase. Within seconds, he's got my carry-on slung over his shoulder, too. "You ready to get the fuck out of here?"
"Um, yes," I say, glancing around, "definitely."
I'd really like to not be on the news already. I know it'll happen eventually, not because I'm cool enough to be gossip, but because he is. And Kingston is my brother. Of course people are going to have something to say about the fact that Briggs and I are…what are we even doing? Talking? Dating? Is there a word for when you haven't labeled it but you're falling in love with someone? I have no idea, but I think we're whatever that word is.
Briggs wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me out of baggage claim, then through the maze of the airport, and out. The sun is a bright ball directly overhead, but it doesn't really warm the air. A frigid breeze blows right through me.
"Cold?" Briggs asks, noticing when I shiver.
"Only always."
"And yet, you live in Minneapolis."
"It's not as cold there."
"You little liar," he says with a chuckle. "It's way colder there than it is here."
"Not really. You guys have the wind trying to murder you all winter. We don't. The wind makes it colder. Science," I retort.
"That is absolutely not how science works, Tia," he laughs.
"It is." I pat his arm sympathetically. "It's okay that you didn't learn it properly, Mr. Engineering Degree. At least you have hockey to fall back on."
He laughs so loud, he startles a couple one row over. They shoot us an odd look, but it doesn't faze him any. Nothing ever really does. He's just…Briggs.
We stop for burgers on the way to his place because I'm starving, and end up cuddling in the back of a fast-food restaurant until the staff basically kicks us out.
By the time we make it to his place, it's dark. But not even the night hides how fucking massive his house is. I'm pretty sure it has its own zip code.
I look over at him as he hauls my stuff out of the back. "You overcompensating for something here, Briggs?"
"What?" His brows furrow, his gaze following mine when I nod toward the house. And then he laughs, the confusion clearing from his gaze. "You've had your hands all over it, beautiful. You know damn well that I'm big everywhere."
"Yes, and so is your house."
"It was on sale," he says with a shrug.
"You're the reason people want to eat the rich," I say sweetly.
He just shakes his head at me, pointing toward the giant stone porch. "Take your gorgeous ass inside before I eat something rich."
"You aren't talking about me," I mutter, starting up the sidewalk. "I could never afford a house the size of a city."
"It's not that big."
"It is, but I'll let you keep thinking that if it makes you feel better," I call over my shoulder as I step onto the porch and peer around. What I can see of the house is beautiful—a French Provincial with classic stucco and casement windows—but it's a little surprising. I've never put much thought into what kind of house he lived in, but I guess I just thought it'd be something more practical, not an actual fucking mansion.
He carries my bags onto the porch a second later, juggling them while he unlocks the door. "Does it bother you?"
"Hmm?"
"The house," he asks, and he actually sounds worried about it, like he's afraid I hate it.
"Not really," I admit. "I guess I'm just surprised. You don't seem like the mansion type."
"I'm not," he mutters. "But I drafted at eighteen, with one brother already in the league and another playing professional football." He swallows. "And a fourteen-year-old sister who hated being home alone with our mother. I needed somewhere safe for her to go when she needed to get away. Since Tye was playing in Colorado at the time, and Harlan was in Oregon, I figured this was as good a place as any. It has a library, pool, and gardens, plenty of space for her to breathe. Since it's a gated community, she'd be safe here on her own, even if I were out of town."