Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
“Spice Girls would take the W.” Her voice is more breathless, raspy.
Our chests rise and fall against one another. My hands slide to her wrists at her side. There are a thousand things I want to do with Sulli, and a thousand chances I let slip by.
It’s not too late, Nine.
My lips practically dance over hers. “You remember that time we switched workout playlists?”
“And I had to swim to Bach?” She drinks me in. “While you worked out to All Saints and S Club 7 for a whole month.”
I smile into a laugh. “And I played ‘Bring It All Back’ on repeat. Security gave me such shit—”
Sulli slugs my shoulder with actual force. For swearing.
Fudge-nugget.
I rub my arm and mock wince. “Not holding back; are you, Lady Meadows?” I used to call her Lady Meadows at times when we were just friends. I stopped while we were on rocky grounds after her breakup with Will. But recently, I’ve been able to see she really likes when I say it.
Her cheeks flush. “Just waiting for you to call me strong bean.”
“I never said you weren’t strong,” I tell her deeply, because I love how physically powerful Sulli is. I kiss the cut of her bicep.
She drops my AirPod, flustered. “Cumbuckets.”
We leave Mozart playing on the ground and her girl band playing from the dangling cord on her shorts. Why she hasn’t gone wireless—that’s just Sulli hating to charge cordless earbuds. She says it’s a pain in the ass.
A couple inches taller, I rest a forearm over her head and hold her wrist at her side with my other hand. Staring down at Sulli, I can’t help but smile.
I love her strength, but I love the crinkles in her brows and the peeking smile when I say, “But you’re also the stringiest string bean that ever did—”
Her hand flies to my mouth. “Take it fucking back.”
I press my body closer against Sulli, driving her shoulders further against the boxing bag. We’re melded together, and even with the collapse of her collarbones and the breathy “fuck” from her lips—she keeps her hand over my mouth.
So I lick her palm.
“Kits!”
She slugs me again.
I laugh.
Shit—I mean, shoot (I need to practice this punishment in my head, unless I want a bruised arm all year).
And I needed that laugh.
I needed this.
You need her, Nine.
She wipes her wet palm down my shirt, tracking the lines of my abs. Tension pools between us, but we stay still.
Quietly, I ask, “Do you care that I switched Banks to Maximoff’s detail today?”
“He had to go, right?” Sulli asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “He’s still the floater, and Farrow got a med call.”
“It’s not like you did it out of spite, then I’d care.”
I expel a strained breath. “I couldn’t do that to him—even if I wanted to spend a millennium beside you. Banks is…” I grimace. “Good.”
“That doesn’t make you bad, Kits,” Sulli says strongly. “Your heart is one of the biggest I’ve ever fucking known.”
I tilt my head, smiling. “That’s because my heart has always been the biggest around you.”
Sulli inhales that declaration and wears an expression like she’s falling backwards.
I still clasp her wrist, and I’m not letting her descend without me.
She glances back towards the gym’s entrance, which is locked. “I don’t know if you heard yet, but Winona texted me that Ben is okay.”
Ben Cobalt was hit hard during hockey practice, pitfalls of the sport. And hence, the medical emergency that whisked Farrow away from his job in security. But I haven’t heard any updates yet. Partially because the med team—aka Farrow, his father, and his uncle—keep medical reports confidential.
“Any broken bones?” I ask Sulli.
“None. Just slightly concussed.” She explains, “Apparently, Farrow said it’s not a bad concussion, but since it’s Ben’s second one, he’s going to monitor him all day.”
Which means Banks is on Maximoff’s detail all day. Giving me more alone-time with Sulli than I’ve had in a while.
Sulli uses her free hand to push hair off her shoulder. “I’m fucking hot.”
“You definitely are,” I whisper, cutting more distance between us with my lips. They brush along hers, then travel lightly over her jaw, down the nape of her neck. Her familiar chlorine and sweet scent dizzy me in a heady rush. Our eyes meet, and I imagine stripping Sulli naked.
Right here.
Bare.
Filling her until she whimpers that pleasured whimper. Shi—hoot, I’ll never get enough of those noises Sulli makes. As though every new and overwhelming touch is welcomed with a cry of I can’t take it but I want more.
“Kits…” Sulli breathes hard.
I close my lips around her soft skin.
She shudders. “Fuck.” And her breathy curse turns into a gasp as I stretch her arms above her head and pin her wrists to the boxing bag.
“Wait,” Sulli cuts in, and I immediately drop her wrists.
“You okay?” I skim her fast. What’d I fudging do? Is she okay? I’m having flashbacks of our first kiss outside the motel. When she backed up from me, but I doubt she’s harboring another short-term secret like the one about kissing Banks.