Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
When I’m on the cusp of losing it, Luca brings one hand to my clit and the other to my breast, and as he massages with one hand and gropes with the other, it’s like he’s cranked some imaginary dial to high. All of a sudden, my eyes roll back violently, my vision warps and blurs, and my lower abdomen feels like it’s tightening sharply in preparation for a massive release.
I’m sweating. Flushed. On the bitter cusp. Practically whimpering, I begin rocking back and forth on top of Luca with even more abandon, while he works my clit and growls underneath me like an animal caught in a trap. We can’t go on like this. Truly. One or both of us is going to physically explode. Finally, relief comes: a shattering release that crashes into me like a tsunami, one that takes my breath away and sends my entire body convulsing like I’m having a seizure.
As I cry out with the best orgasm of my life, I’m vaguely aware of Luca coming beneath me, of his body bucking and jolting and rippling inside mine. I dig my fingernails into his bare chest and ride the final waves throttling me, and when they finally subside, I buckle over him, collapse forward in a heap, and try to catch my ragged breath.
For a long moment, Luca stays inside me, breathing hard, while I lie on top of him in a sweaty, spent puddle, trying to wrangle my racing thoughts and make sense of what I’m feeling. Sex with Luca isn’t normal. It feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life, physically. But it’s bigger than that. When we come together, I feel like my very soul is electrified and shooting through a sky full of stars.
Fuck.
If someone had told me mere weeks ago this is where I’d be today—crumpled on top of Luca after fucking him in a back bedroom at Roman Maguire’s mansion—I would have laughed in their face. And yet, here I am, doing exactly that, and all because Luca’s cast some kind of a spell on me—one I can’t seem to shake off or guard against with the usual walls I’ve gotten so good at putting up in romantic situations.
Luca whispers, “Come here, mathlete.”
He pulls me in for a gentle kiss, and I give him what he wants while telling myself not to panic. To stop freaking out and live in the glorious moment.
“Don’t even try to tell me that was another one-off,” he whispers as he rubs his nose affectionately against mine and smiles. “I’m addicted now, baby, so what we just did is going to be a daily thing.”
CHAPTER 27
Luca
I’M SUITED UP with my helmet off and stretching on the field before the third and final preseason game kicks off. I was a beast in our second game last week, even more so than the prior week. And now, I’m determined to extend my ass-kicking spree to three preseason games—and then into the regular season the week after that.
Now that Moriarty’s suited up for the first time this preseason, I admit it’s going to be a tall order to exceed my stats from my past two outings. But I’m sure I’ll at least match them, since veterans and superstars like Moriarty only play a few reps in their short preseason appearances. They always play just enough to get the cobwebs and jitters out, just enough to give the fans a sneak peek of their favorites. But that’s it. And thank God for that, because my life, unlike Moriarty’s, is on the line tonight.
As the pregame clock continues winding down, I switch up my position to stretch my hamstrings at an angle that allows me to covertly observe my rival across the field. He’s still running warm-up drills with Chelsea, and it’s taking every drop of my self-restraint not to go over there and tell him to stop being so fucking chatty and flirtatious with her. I’ve wanted to wrap my hands around that man’s neck and squeeze the life out of him at least a thousand times since he rejoined the team three weeks ago. But then I remember what Chelsea always says to calm me down, and I manage to hang on to my self-control by the barest of threads: You’re the one who’s been fucking me every night for the past two weeks, Luca. Not Jacob Moriarty.
I switch legs in my stretch, just in time to see Moriarty finish his drill and make a comment to Chelsea with a wide smile on his face. His body language is extra flirty, but thankfully, whatever he said to her, it only made Chelsea shake her head and put her hand on her hip. I’m only seeing the back of Chelsea’s head, but based on her body l language, I can perfectly imagine the eye roll and frown she just flashed him.