Page 79 of The Wildest One
As she spoke, she was charming the boys with her warm, lovable personality, promising things we didn’t know we wanted or needed, mesmerizing them with her looks.
There wasn’t a limp dick in this whole fucking room—I’d bet thousands on it.
I glanced around at the faces of each of my teammates, annoyed as hell that their eyes were on her.
That they were listening to her.
That they were watching her.
I knew this was irrational.
I also knew there was nothing I could do to change the way I felt.
“My office is upstairs.”
“I’ll be traveling with you.”
“It’s my face you’ll see—on the plane, at games, at practices—everywhere and anywhere.”
What the fuck was even happening right now?
Was this some kind of sick joke?
Jesus.
I couldn’t listen to another word.
I needed a time-out.
A drink.
To be in a room that she wasn’t filling in some way.
My eyes closed.
My chin lifted.
And I groaned out the loudest roar of anger as the rest of the team applauded Jolie.
I had questions.
Hundreds of them.
I didn’t even know where to fucking begin with any of this shit.
But I knew, after her message at two this morning, that she wanted to talk.
Of course she did. She needed to clean up the pieces after dropping this goddamn bomb on me.
But why hadn’t she called me this morning to tell me before practice? Why hadn’t she given me some kind of heads-up or warning before she and her father walked in here and unloaded this beast of information?
And why hadn’t she mentioned this before I brought her home, before I fucked her without a condom, and before she came all over my tongue?
My chin dropped, and as soon as my stare moved straight, it locked with hers.
Jolie, why do you have to be so gorgeous?
But etched across that beautiful face was a war of emotions. I could see it in her eyes. In the tightness of her lips. In the furrow between her brows.
