Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I wasn’t comparing the two of you,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know.”
10
Garrett
Back in the car, as I’m about to press the ignition, Autumn puts her hand on mine. When I look at her, she meets my eyes, and then her gaze drifts down to my mouth. She licks her bottom lip, and then, as if unseen forces are drawing us together, suddenly we’re kissing. And it’s not the tender, tentative style of our first kiss, but something closer to how we were by round three last night.
Only now it’s just her and me. There’s no one else here that I have to share her with. There are a steering wheel and a gear shift between us, but I can easily navigate those obstacles when kissing Autumn is the prize.
Shifting in my seat to reach her better, I slide my hand through her hair and cup the back of her head, holding her steady so I can kiss her more deeply. Her lips are so soft, and everything about her feels and tastes so good.
Meanwhile, her hands are exploring my body, one of them sliding up my forearm to my bicep, the other pressing into my thigh.
When she sighs into my mouth, my cock twitches in response, and it’s the reminder that I needed — we’re in public. I want to touch her all over, but this isn’t the place. She deserves privacy.
“We should’ve skipped the meal and spent the whole lunch break doing this,” Autumn says when I force myself to pull back.
“That’s a great idea.”
“I still can’t believe you … are inexperienced like me,” she says. She’s leaning back in her seat, her head against the headrest, looking at me, and she’s so beautiful, it’s all I can do not to drag her into the backseat and have my way with her.
“I’ve had opportunities,” I say, “but it wasn’t something I wanted to do just for the sake of doing it.”
“Me either.”
My head knows we shouldn’t do what we just did. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation, but it’s my dick talking when I ask, “Do you want to come to my place after work?”
Autumn’s eyes widen for a brief second. Is she imagining the same thing I am?
“I’d like to,” she says, biting her lower lip before continuing, “but I really need to prepare for my gig at Rusty’s. They’ve just hired me for one night, and I really want to impress them. I have a hair appointment at five-thirty, and I need to finalize my set list.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing you sing.”
“You’re going to come?”
“Of course,” I say. “I was already planning to, even before … this.” I gesture between us with my hand. Autumn’s voice is beautiful. It’s one of the first things about her that stood out to me when I met her. There’s no way I’d miss her show.
Again, she bites her lip. “I was thinking, though … of going back to Club Red tonight, and I was hoping you’d come with me.”
I’m disappointed, but I’m also not surprised.
Maybe she sees what I’m thinking because she rushes to add, “Your old friend — was it Adrian? — will probably be there. Maybe you’d like to see him?”
I shrug, and she says, “I don’t even really know why I want to go again. It’s just … last night was … intriguing, and, well …” Instead of finishing, she shrugs.
“You want to see where things go with Trevor,” I say.
“I want to see where things go … with … both of you?” Her voice lifts into a question at the end, seeking my input.
Trevor is a nice enough guy, but I don’t particularly want to see him again, and though I am curious about Adrian, I’d rather see him somewhere where he won’t be taking his clothes off, but if Autumn wants me to go with her, then I want to be there. If we didn’t work together, and if there was potential for some kind of relationship between us, then maybe I wouldn’t be open to sharing her attention with anyone else, but with the situation being what it is, there’s no reason for me to raise an objection.
“What time should I pick you up?” I say.
Night 2
11
Autumn
I should be spending more time preparing for my night at Rusty’s. Essentially, I’m ready. I know what songs I’m going to play, what I’m going to wear, and I do practice every day, but it’s hard to keep my head focused on it — which is completely bizarre, since performing is my dream, and the gig at Rusty’s is my first step.
But my head is consumed with thoughts of what happened on the couch last night, and what might happen if the three of us get together again.
I should probably wait until after my gig at Rusty’s — which is only two nights away — to go back to Club Red, but everything feels both urgent and delicate, like if I allow time to pass, everything will be different. Some spell will be broken, and the hot stripper and my amazing coworker will no longer want to make out with me. I know it’s ridiculous, but patience has never been my strong point, and I can’t see myself sitting at home when I know there’s an opportunity to have a second chance at last night.