Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“You named your car Betty? How cliché!” She laughs harder.
“Now you’re dissing her name?” I tsk. “Get in. Once you get to know her you’ll regret the name-calling and apologize.” I open the door for her to get in.
“Are we seriously taking this car? We’re in New York! It’s kind of a waste. Isn’t it known for doing like zero-to-one hundred in thirty seconds? The only thing you’ll be doing on the streets of New York is wearing out the brakes.”
“Actually, it’s zero-to-two hundred and forty eight in forty three seconds.” I grin. She rolls her eyes completely unimpressed. “Now get in, so I can prove to you she’s not only beautiful, but also smart.”
Giselle shakes her head as she gets in. “She’s not a person, you know.”
“Shh, stop putting her down.”
The truth is, I have only driven my special edition once, and she’s right, driving this car in the city is a waste of its potential, but I can’t not drive the cars I love simply because of where I live. Now that would be a waste. Plus, fucking with her over her hatred of this car will be fun.
Once she’s buckled in, I close the door and go around to my side to get in. It smells of new leather, and I can’t help but inhale the scent. Giselle giggles. “Feel the leather and silver,” I say as I run my fingers over the dashboard. She snorts out a laugh thinking I’m joking.
“Seriously,” I say, “feel the leather and silver.” I take her hand in mine and run it across the material. She oohs and ahhs dramatically. “Oh, yes, Killian, that leather feels so good!” She moans playfully. I know she’s only joking, but the sound she makes has me imagining what she’ll sound like when a man finally makes her come. And holy fuck, do I want to be that man.
I let go of her hand and press the power button, and it rumbles to life. I smile over at her and she groans. “I get it…It’s powerful,” she says dryly.
“Damn right it is.”
As I back out, Giselle looks around, then asks, “Where’s the radio?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Okay, stop,” she demands, and I press the brakes. “I love Betty. She’s sexy and beautiful and so very smart, but c’mon, Kill. We need a radio.” She pouts. “We have like an hour drive to Serenity.”
“Not in this car we don’t. I’ll get us there in fifteen minutes. And Betty doesn’t need your fake praises. Soon enough you’ll be singing them for real.”
She laughs. “Ugh! Fine!”
I grin wide and pull my phone out. It’s already programmed for Bluetooth, so all I have to do is press play and the music surrounds us. “No radio, but there is music.” I give her a playful wink.
Once we get to her place, she argues she can take the subway but I’m not having it. Thankfully, she picks her battles and lets me win this one. Once she’s showered and dressed in a new outfit, she gets back in the car and we begin our trip to Rye. We stop on the way to grab a couple croissants and Giselle gets another coffee. She groans when everyone stares at the car, but when a few guys ask if they can get a picture with it and me, she offers to take the pictures for them.
She fidgets as we drive through the city, messing with the music on my phone, but not saying a word. She’s obviously nervous about meeting with her mom’s doctors. I want to discuss her finding another option aside from working at A Touch of Class, but now isn’t the time. Instead I go for a distraction. When we hit the interstate, I make it a point to speed up. Giselle’s back hits the seat as the car surges forward. She leans over to check the speed, and when she sees it’s already at one hundred miles per hour, she gasps.
“Holy shit! It’s like we’re flying.” She laughs. She turns the music up louder and raises her hands in the air. Her head goes back as she belts out the lyrics. Not wanting to put her in danger—or get pulled over—when the car reaches one-twenty, I let my foot off the gas. It slowly descends until we’re back to the speed limit. She continues to play the music loud, singing along to each of the songs. Her voice is horrible and she sings completely off tune, yet I find myself wanting to take a detour so she’ll keep singing for several more hours. I like this version of the woman next to me. The playful, outgoing, doesn’t-have-a-care-in-the-world Giselle is how she should always be.
“So?” I prompt as we pull up. “Is she still ugly and stupid?”
“No! I love her! She’s so fast and smooth. When I win the lottery one day I’m going to get me one.” She grins playfully.