Hendrix (Raleigh Raptors 3) - Page 25

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She reached for my fly, and I caught her wrist, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin when she protested. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”

“Not tonight.” I barely recognized my own voice. “When we do this, Savannah, I want you all to myself. Just once.” That’s all I could allow myself. Once.

“Are you saying…” Her eyes flared.

“Yes. God help us both.” I slid my thumbs over her cheeks. She was so damned beautiful.

“Okay, then I’ll—”

I kissed her quiet. “My terms,” I said against her mouth.


“When I say. Trust me, you’ll enjoy yourself way more if you stop trying to control everything.” My lips rose in a smirk. “As I just proved.”

Her cheeks flushed a brighter shade of pink.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slid it free, glancing at the message that flashed on my home screen.

Roman: Where did you go?

“I have to get back before Roman comes searching,” I said, tucking my phone away and taking one last, lingering kiss before I pulled away.

“When?” she asked as I reached the door of the office.

I almost laughed. Stubborn, gorgeous, addictive woman.

“When I say,” I said again over my shoulder as I walked out. One more second in that office, and I would have said right then.

I was going to hell, but damn, I was going to enjoy getting there.



"It’s really ridiculous, right?" I asked while pacing the length of my bedroom.

London was perched atop my bed, watching my every movement with amused eyes.

"Oh, it absolutely is," she said in solidarity, resting her chin on her delicate hands.

"I mean, it's been six days," I whined. "Six days since he…"

Hendrix expertly spreading my thighs.

Tugging me to the edge of the desk.

His lips and tongue throwing me right over that edge as he made me shatter again and again—

That quickly, heat flooded beneath my skin. It had been that way every day for six days now. Any time I thought about him sinking lower in that chair before the desk…

A warm shiver trembled my body. I’d already shared most of the delicious deets with London, but I didn't want to rehash it here. I stopped pacing and rolled my eyes.

"Tell me why am I the only woman in the entirety of South Carolina that Hendrix Malone didn't jump immediately?" I threw my hands in the air, my blood pulsing hard with each new wave of anxiousness that hit me. Hendrix had given me a proper taste of what it could be like with him, and then he. Hadn’t. Called.

What the hell was up with that?

And why did it bother and delight me so damn much?

"Well, like I said before," London said. "It could be the fact that your father is his boss, and he's threatened all of those NFL players with death or trade or extinction if they go after you." She shrugged again. “Just a thought."

I sank on the bed next to her, nodding as guilt slid through my blood like gritty tar. "You're right," I said a little bit begrudgingly. "I get that. I really do. But it's going to be a one-time deal. And nobody is going to find out about it—besides you. And then I won’t have to worry about this anymore. I won’t have to worry that the next guy I date is only going to be dating me to steal my virtue or because I'm Coach Goodman's daughter. I'll be my own professional by then, and whoever I decide to be with isn't going to have to worry about…"

"About being your first?" London asked, eyebrows raised.

"Exactly. It takes the pressure off."

"Oh yeah," London mocked. "Because following up Hendrix Malone will be a piece of cake."

I didn't argue with her, because I couldn't. Because just from what I'd already experienced? There would be no following him up. But either way, I would have this one solid memory of when I burned brighter than the star I always wanted to be. Because I knew that was exactly how Hendrix would light me up. I just needed him to do it. Once.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fished it out. My eyes flew wide as I turned the screen toward London. "Speak of the silver-tongued devil," I said with a shaky breath.

"OMG, is that his address? Gate code?" London asked, her lips parting as she gazed up at me shockingly.

I flipped the phone back toward me, rereading his text to make sure I hadn’t fallen into one of my nightly fantasies.

Hendrix: Meet me here at eight. We're discussing rules only, so wear your sweats.

I actually snort-laughed at his demand I wear sweats. I shook my head at the text, internally chiding him for his incredible cockiness.

"Fine," I said out loud and typed out a fast text back to him. I pushed off my bed and hurried over to my dresser. "If the boy wants sweats, then I’m going to wear sweats."

Tags: Samantha Whiskey Raleigh Raptors Romance
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