🏈EXCERPT REVEAL 🏈
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐭 (𝑮𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒚 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 2) by Ava Sutton releases NEXT WEEK! Check out this sneak peek!
PRE-ORDER/ ADD IT TO YOUR AMAZON WISHLIST!
https://geni.us/thepactlegacy
What to expect:
💍Marriage Pact
💍Marriage of Convenience
💍Fake Marriage → Real Feelings
💍Friends to Lovers (with history)
💍Second Chance Romance
💍Close Proximity (home and work)
💍Pro Football Sports Romance
💍Doctor x Athlete
💍Single Guardian/Suddenly Raising Kids
💍Found Family
Excerpt:
“It feels…like you’re keeping something from me, Doc,” he says.
“What are you talking about?” I brush him off with a smile, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from saying something stupid.
He levels his eyes with mine. “You’ve been acting funny all day. I’ve known you for eleven years, and trust me, I know you have something on your mind. You get this wrinkle on your forehead when you’re thinking about something.”
I place a hand on my forehead to smooth out whatever wrinkle he thinks he sees.
He chuckles and then lifts his thumb to my lower lip and pulls it away from my teeth.
“You also bite your lower lip when you’re really worked up about something.”
His thumb traces my mouth a second too long, and I let out a little whimper.
F*ck.
He rests his hands on his thighs and gives a wry smile. “Talk to me, Doc. What’s on your mind?”
I shift from one foot to the other, resting my tablet on my hip. “I …” I blow out a breath, “can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Saint …” Do I tell this man, who I have known all of my adult life, that I secretly want him to give me an orgasm like I need air to breathe? I shouldn’t.
It would be crude and crazy. Then again, this is Saint, and we tell each other everything.
“I’ve been thinking about our pact we made in college.”
He lifts a brow and smirks. “Our pact? You want to get married?”
“No!” I answer a little too quickly and too easily.
He leans back, hands up, amused. “Easy there, Pres. It’s fine. If you don’t want to marry me, then why is it on your mind in a way that you’re acting like being near me or touching me is going to set you off? That you say I’m distracting you … Oh. Ohhh.”
His mouth quirks up on one side as if the realization of it all just hit him. He steps closer, and I step back as his large frame empowers the space between us.
“Saint. Forget it. It’s not what you think. It’s just a little dry spell.” I say, backing up.
He keeps coming toward me until my back is up against the padded wall.
“Saint. Stay on the turf. You should be—” I say, trying to sound stronger than I feel. In my mind, I replay every time over the years we’ve almost crossed the line, but retreated.
And I’m not sure I want to anymore.
He reaches out, his hands slamming on the wall on either side of my head with a thud.
He doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t have to. The sheer size of him overwhelms me. Yes, I’m a doctor who treats the most intimidating athletes in the league, but right now I feel like I want him to consume me regardless of the consequences.
“We vowed to always be honest, so I’m going to ask you once, and I want you to be honest with me.”
“Ok,” I say and swallow … hard.
“You want to give in to this insane sexual tension we have?” he practically growls, his face inches from mine. I can feel his hot breath on my skin, smelling the mint he was crunching on when I walked in. “Do you want to f*ck me, Presley?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs. My mind, racing.
“Thank f*ck because I’ve waited years for you to give in.”
“You have?” I shake my head. “This is insane. It’s just been a while since I’ve gotten laid.
That’s all it is.” I hold up a hand. “We can’t–”
“Why not? We’re adults.”
My head spins with the heady mix of lust I have for this man. I can feel the length of him through his thin gym shorts pressing against my core, his hands skimming my hips.
Should I do this? No. Can I? Hell yes. I’m a grown woman. A doctor. And a very horny female with a hot as hell football player trying to separate my thighs.
“Saint, if we do this,” I whisper, breathily. “No one can know. My father would lose his mind. He’s already dealing with Alie and Liam’s big reveal. I don’t think we need any more drama in the organization right now. And we can’t risk him trading you, for f*ck’s sake.”
A deep, dangerous laugh spills out. “Let him,” he says, and for the first time, I see the arrogance of the man he is on the field directed at me. “I’ve got enough money to retire today. And I’m pretty sure any team in the league would take me, trade or no trade. But he would never even consider it. Because he knows I’m the only one who can keep his defense together. And he also knows that you’re the only one who can keep me together. He’s not stupid or blind. He knows we’ve been,” he motions between us, “this since college. We’ve never hidden our friendship. And we’re always professional at work. None of that has to change.”
I don’t bother arguing, because he’s right.
No mention of the fast-approaching deadline of our pact. No mention of Oreos, Garth Brooks, or any of the other terms. But he doesn’t have to. Because the way he looks at me, like he wants to devour me, like the last eleven years have been nothing but a long, agonizing buildup for this moment.
When he finally leans in and kisses me, it’s nothing like the kiss we shared in college. It’s deep, slow and possessive. It tastes like years of longing and frustration, and the reality that everything between us could change.
BLURB:
Back in college, I made a pact with Presley Grant—if we were both still single at thirty, we’d marry each other.
It was a joke. A fallback plan we never thought we’d need.
Now I’m an NFL star, playing for Presley’s father’s team, and she’s the team doctor—completely off-limits. But when an injury puts me under her care in the offseason, old chemistry resurfaces fast … and inescapably.
Then tragedy strikes.
Now I’m the legal guardian of my sister’s two young children, facing a custody battle I might lose. Because no matter how much I love them, the court might not see my career as stable.
And Presley … her dream of opening a football camp for underprivileged kids hinges on one seemingly impossible condition: she must be married or thirty-five years old to access her trust fund.
So, I make a proposal and cash in on our pact.
It’s supposed to solve everything—my family, her future. Temporary. Controlled. Nothing more.
But living together, raising two kids, and pretending to be in love—it starts to feel dangerously real.
And when the time comes to walk away … neither of us is sure we can.
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