Princess and the Player (Strangers in Love, #2)

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

“Clowns should be murdered,” I add. “Wanna know who invented clowns? A psycho, that’s who.”

LOL SO ME 😭

“Are you wicked?” she murmurs as she tugs my hair free from the bun and presses a soft kiss to my jawline. A deep, primitive sound comes from my throat. “Hmm, very.” “Good.” She pulls on my gray necktie, then removes it slowly. She runs the silk through her fingers, brings it to her nose, and then tucks it inside her bodice. “My souvenir.” “If you get to keep one, then I want one.” “I’m your souvenir.”

“We all have darkness. People you see on the street, people you work with, people you love, people you hate. If there’s no darkness, then there’s no room for light. And when that darkness hits you, and it will, all that matters is that you keep going, one step at a time until you’re up and back on your journey.”

I lean down to her ear. “Be wicked with me tonight. I’ll make you forget the guy who hurt you.”

Why is it so hottt

Girls like me don’t have time to wallow. We’ve been rejected before, and when it happens, we make plans. We move on. We survive.

Do you know how long a snail can sleep?” I arch a brow. “Three years. Do you know what happens to female ferrets if they don’t mate?” “They get angry?” “They die. Something about their hormones going crazy. Anyway. I like him.”

She sticks her wrists out. “Wanna cuff me and take me downtown?” “No, but will you step out here in the hall so we can talk? Just five minutes?” “I’m, like, super busy. You have no idea. Sorry.” I lean in. “But, Francesca, I want to see you. Your whole person. Without you and Mr. Darden yelling back and forth. Without the toboggan and glasses you had on at Café Lazzo.” My voice lowers. “And without the mask, Princess Bride.”

Oh yes, you fascinating creature. I’m intrigued by you, but I need to know why there are so many coincidences between us.

“Do you always run this hot and cold? Besides, there’s another NFL player on my list to stalk. Tell Jasper I’m coming for him. He’s more fun anyway.” A spike of possessiveness rises. “No Jasper for you.”

Fate is a tenacious bitch. And sometimes when she doesn’t get what she wants, she tries again and again.

he brushes his lips over my cheek, then purrs in my ear, “Just when you think I’ll zig, I zag.”

“Some say you’re destined to meet the same person over and over until you get it right.”

“You’re a cynical man. I’m a cynic too, but . . .” A troubled expression flits over her face. “There must be purpose; otherwise what’s the point in tragedy and suffering?”

He is something I never imagined I needed. And I don’t want to lose him. He is air. Life. And his flawed edges? His chaos? I love them the most.

“No, sweetheart. Listen to me. It’s you; you’re my zero hour.

I can’t lose you. Jesus. I’m wrong. I’m fucking wrong. I’m messed up, and that’s forever, but you make it okay. I’m scared, but you’re the optimist, the yin to my yang, peas and carrots—sorry to be lame, but it’s something Jasper says, and it fits for me and you.

I don’t know what the future is, if I’ll go down a dark road, but I need you in my life. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll try. I’ll try; I’ll be good for you; I’ll be the best man I can. We know what darkness looks like. We lived it, but we won...

“I found some random tattoo parlor. I didn’t have a picture of your face—remember your question was if I’d get your face?” I nod. “I have one of us on my phone, but the artist said it would take too long to do the detail anyway. He offered to sketch something, and I talked about you in a masquerade mask and a wedding dress, and he got confused.”

“It’s my name and the bridge. It’s perfect. I love you, Tuck.” His eyes mist. “You asked me once where my favorite place in New York is, and I couldn’t really give you a true answer, but . . .” “Yeah?” “It’s you, Francesca. You. Nowhere is good if you aren’t there. I canceled the yacht. I’m not going to play pro.”

“When I get scared, I do this. Give me your hand again.” I place his hand on my stomach and talk to her, telling her I adore her and her daddy does too. The baby kicks against him, and he starts, then smiles. I gaze up at him and see the wetness in his eyes. I scoot up and brush my lips over his. He cups my scalp. “Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. For not giving up. We’re going to give her everything she needs. Two people who love her—”

Instead of moving out, you know, I’d be a great nanny until camp starts.” Tuck narrows his eyes at him. “She won’t need a nanny. I’ll be there.” “But I like babies!” “She’s my daughter,” Tuck growls, and I hold up a hand.

His gaze softens. “My brave little princess.” “Yours. All yours.” His arms wrap around me, and we hold each other. “Me and you and baby makes three,” he says softly. “Will you stay with me? Marry me?”

You are my soul, he said. The light that guides me home. So why does it matter if it was sooner than we might have anticipated?

“Maybe you can tell me about that plug later? Let’s have a baby,” he murmurs as he kisses my nose.

A tear runs down Tuck’s face, and I smile up at him, my own eyes wet. “He’s beautiful,” I say. “You both are.”

Tuck gazes into my eyes. “I love you, and I love this journey.” I repeat the words back, our little mantra we say to each other.

I kiss his forehead, my heart full of love for him, for Darryn, for Francesca. Sometimes I feel so grateful that I’m terrified, like something awful might whisk them away from me. I know the root of that fear, leftover trauma that may never disappear.

I remind myself that Francesca and I aren’t my parents. We’re special. We’re, well, fated, written in the stars. And I’ll cherish each moment we share.

“Do that thing with your lips,” she says, her voice still lulled with sleep as her hands go to my hair, carding through the strands. “What thing?” “You know . . .” “Yes?” I tease. “Where you kiss me like I’m your everything. You want me to brush my teeth first?” I chuckle. “No, Mrs. Avery. You always taste like fresh dew in the morning.” She grunts. “Funny.”

They are cutee

I kiss her softly, then smile against her lips. “You are, you know. My everything. Always will be.” “Mmm, I love your dirty talk.” “Oh, I can get dirtier.”