After a long, heated battle of wills through a hard stare, he relents. “That’s fair. But I haven’t had a drink for over an hour, and I only had a couple.”
“But I really like fruit leather.”
His eyebrows twitch, and his eyes light up like I just told him he was tall enough to ride the rollercoaster at the fair.
When I reach over and pluck the candy from his cock, his body deflates. I don’t even look at him as I shove the sweet, fruity treat onto my tongue and make yummy noises and drape the pair of boxers that were lying next to him on the bed, over his cock.
The pained groan he makes, fills my chest with glee. “You’re killing me smalls.”
I settle next to him on the bed. “And it’s about to get worse.”
He covers his face with his forearm. “Say it ain’t so.”
“If you want the honor of your tongue going anywhere near my Queendom. You’re gonna have to be nice to me. Really fucking nice.”
He doesn’t move his arm, so his voice is muffled when he speaks. “We both know that’s never going to happen.”
CHAPTER 27
Tate
Idon’t fucking know how to be nice to this woman. She has me so tangled up in knots I’m like my grandmother’s balls of yarn once her cats got into the yarn basket.
Be nice to me, she says.
And who the fuck calls their pussy a Queendom?
Apparently, my girl.
I can’t really argue. She is a fucking queen. And what’s even better, she knows it. Having a woman who knows not only what she wants, but also what she deserves, is special. I don’t plan to fuck that up.
Three weeks to convince her I’m worthy of tasting her Queendom. Though if she makes me wait that long to fuck her I’m going to need a ball replacement, she has me so fucking turned on that they’re going to explode.
And it’s going to be messy as fuck.
Talking to Scott earlier didn’t magically fix me, nor did talking to Pitstop for a little while when she nixed any sex shit after she got here. She didn’t exactly force me to talk, but she did scowl at me and tell me that I needed to talk tosomeone.
By the time we were ready to sleep, we had booked an online appointment with a therapist her dad recommended, and Raffihad hooked me up with his and Tori’s personal trainer, Phil, over at the Fit Factory. I’m losing weight and haven’t worked out since the day of my accident, I need to get back into working out.
If I’m going to make a big comeback, I’m going to need to start working on not flaming out more than I already have.
Wasn’t sure I had it in me to scrape my way back from the depths of despair, but Penelope insists I do. And for some reason, I’m inclined to believe her.
For the past—I dunno how long—I’ve harbored a deep and rippling envy at the fact my teammates are finding their soulmates one by one. I didn’t realize just how much it bothered me until I reconnected with Pitstop.
Since my chat with Scott, I’ve been mulling it over. And I finally figured it out.
Each of my teammates who have found their better halves have all found people who believe in them more than they believe in themselves. Now it’s my turn, I’m not sure how to accept that. Not sure how to trust in Penelope’s words that she knows my fortitude, my strength, and that what she says will come to pass.
All I can do is give it my best shot. Beyond that, I’ll know I tried, even if I don’t get my shit together. I’ll have given it my all.
She says that’s all I can do.
Once the wiring in my mouth is out, Pitstop is going to help me through rehab. Turns out, having been smacked in the face with a puck while dating an in-training speech pathologist works in my favor.
She says I’ll need help learning to chew again—masticate, she said—I love it when she gets all medical on me. It’s hot.
That’s a lie, she’s always hot.
