All the Way (Hot Jocks Book 2)

Becca squeezes some of the mint-scented bodywash into her hands and rubs them together, then lathers the soapy bubbles all over her stomach and breasts.
“Goodness . . . someone’s a little excited.” Her eyes widen as she notices a certain part of my anatomy that’s eagerly straining toward her.
I shrug. “You. Naked. Wet. Soapy . . . that’s all it takes.”
She rolls her eyes and squeezes more bodywash into her palm.
“Here, let me.” There’s no way I’m missing the opportunity to have my hands all over her.
She turns, presenting me with her back, and I work the lather into her overworked muscles, taking my time to massage each one.
“Ahhh . . .” Her sigh of pleasure is immediate. “That’s so good.”
My throat is dry, and my body goes impossibly stiffer. Everywhere.
I plant a slow kiss on the back of her neck as my hands drift to her front, cupping her round breasts and massaging them. She leans back against me, and my hand slides down her stomach and between her legs. As she arches against me, parting her legs, I run my fingertips over her smooth center.
Moaning when I touch her, she reaches up, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of my neck. “Owen.”
My name on her lips thaws the last bit of my heart. I love that I’m the man who gets to do this for her, the one to pleasure her and take care of her.
I sink one finger slowly inside her slick warmth, and Becca trembles.
“Oh . . . Owen,” she says, moaning again

There’s no better view to wake up to than Owen Parrish tangled up in my sheets. Especially because now he’s not just my friend with benefits. He’s mine. My boyfriend.
Is this real life?
If I heard Owen correctly last night during our little heart-to-heart in his car, we are officially a couple. No more deals between friends to help me gain confidence in the bedroom. No more wondering if Owen is off seeing other people when he’s not picking up his phone.
Owen Parrish is my boyfriend. And as long as it doesn’t turn out to be some tequila-fueled dream, consider me over the freaking moon

my family meant more to her than she let on.
“No. I should be thanking you. You’ve changed the man I am. In all the best ways.”
Becca blinks away the tears and gives me a soft look. “That’s fake news, and you know it. People don’t change, Owen. You’ve had this inside you the whole time.”
“Then it took you to bring it out,” I say, leaning forward to press my lips to hers

Once it’s late, dark outside, we make our way into my bedroom. I expect that we’re going to change into pajamas and brush our teeth, busying ourselves with our bedtime routine like we usually do when Becca stays over. Instead, she sits on the edge of my bed and looks up at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting down beside her.
“I’m just . . . so grateful for you.” Her eyes well with tears.
“Don’t cry, angel.”
She shakes her head. “I’m serious, Owen. What would I have done without you?”
I smile and cup her face in my hands. “I didn’t do anything, and that’s the honest truth. You tore your walls down yourself.”
She shakes her head. “You did everything. Everything. And it was perfect.” Her voice is soft, and I’m not sure what’s gotten into her, but maybe me bringing her home to meet

Becca is perched on one of the stools in my kitchen, watching me cook for her. Tonight, I’m making us chicken piccata. She’d wanted to help, but I enjoy being the one to feed her, so the only task I’ve given her is slicing lemons, which she made quick work of

Becca sways the slightest bit on the uneven pavement, and my hand shoots out to steady her. But at the last second, I pull it away. I’m not sure she wants me touching her right now. And knowing I may have lost that privilege for good stings deeply

“Our story isn’t about your past, it isn’t about how you fell down,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “It’s about how you stood on your own two feet and took your life back. I’m just honored that you let me be part of that. You’re the strongest person I know, Becca. I love you.”

“I love you too . . .” She hesitates for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip and looking down at our hands.

My stomach tenses. “But? Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

She looks up and meets my eyes again. “But . . . part of me is just scared that one day you’re going to wake up and realize I’m not enough for you.”

My heart gives a little clench. “Why would you say that? I love you. You’re everything I want.”

She swallows, looking unsure. “I’m scared that someday another girl is going to capture your heart.”

“Honestly, babe, she will.” I interlace her fingers with mine and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “She’ll be the little girl who calls you Mommy.”

“Owen, you can’t say things like that.” Becca sniffs and starts to cry, the tears that welled in her eyes earlier sliding down her cheeks.

I wipe them away with my thumbs. “I love you, and I always will. You’re it for me.”

Becca loves surprising me with homecooked meals, and I love spoiling her any chance I can get. Not with extravagant vacations, or spa packages, or jewelry—those things don’t light my girl up like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. It’s usually something simple like surprising her with her favorite candy after I’ve been out of town, or downloading her favorite song to play in my car on the way to dinner, or when we lie in bed at night and talk for hours about our future.

Sometimes she needs to be held, and I love being the one to fold her in my arms and whisper into her hair that I’ve got her. Just like I know she loves being my whole world

I squeeze Becca’s shoulder, and she turns to look at me. “We’re coming, babe. All of us. Hell, I might even make signs, paint my chest with something like BECCA IS #1.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so sweet.”

“There’s a term I’ve never heard used to describe my son before.” Dad chuckles

“I like to run,” she settles on. “I signed up for my first half marathon next month.”

“Wow. That’s wonderful,” Mom says, grinning.

I reach over and give Becca’s knee an encouraging squeeze.

I know she’s been ready for a long time, at least physically, to run that distance. But I also know that her confidence has grown since we began dating, and that she now feels confident enough to tackle that challenge mentally. It’s been incredible to watch her bloom with a little time and affection.

But, honestly, I think I’m the one who’s grown the most. I no longer care about wild nights out, or the attention I get for playing a professional sport. I care about the woman beside me. The girl I love. She’s what makes me happy.

“Did you hear what I said, Owen?” Mom asks, giving me a curious stare.

“Uh. No. Sorry.”

She presses her lips together like she wants to be annoyed with me, but I can tell she’s not. I can see how happy I’ve made her by bringing Becca home. “I said we should all go to the race and cheer Becca on.”

“Oh, definitely. That’s a great idea.” I’m already planning to be there, but I secretly love that my folks want to come along too.