Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
He’s being playful, and I’m so here for it.
So I take his unexpected invitation before he comes to his senses.
For the first time I have no time limit, no need to peek beneath my lashes or hide behind shades. I look my fill, unabashedly taking him in from the tips of his brown hair to the bottoms of his bare feet.
At first, it’s a quick run of his body, and then I start over. I trace the firmness of his jaw down his neck, noting the way it thickens, widening into his broad shoulders, courtesy of years of football. I move to his arms, and the deep cuts that disappear behind him, roaming over every ridge of his abs, daring myself to travel farther south.
My knees meet each other as I trace the sharp lines of his hips, his pajama pants sitting loose and perfectly low. I suck my cheek between my teeth, fearing I might make an incredibly embarrassing sound as I do my best to conjure up the shape of the bulge pressing against the thick, striped cotton.
My eyes dart up and the look in his…
It’s new.
Dark.
Desperate?
Chase’s throat bobs with a heavy swallow and my core throbs. I drop my left shoulder, aware my T-shirt will slide with it, and it does. The gaping neck allows it to continue down my skin, and it only pauses when the material meets the hallow of my chest, outlining the swell of my breast.
Just a tease… just enough.
His gaze slices to mine, narrowing. “What are you doing?”
“That seems to be your question of choice this week…”
His frown is small. “Maybe I should wonder a little less.”
My stomach hollows. “Maybe you should.”
Feeling brave, I allow my hands to slide farther back, willing him closer, trying to make it as clear as possible, just in case he’s not getting it.
I want you.
Instantly, his gaze drops to my mouth, so with nerves running through me, I glide my tongue across my lips.
That does it.
Chase pushes off the counter, and like an animal after his next meal, he makes his way to me.
Three more steps.
His fists flex at his sides.
One more…
He reaches me.
I push up.
My brother appears.
Shit!
I jerk upright, and Mason’s sharp eyes fly between us.
“What the fuck is this?” Mason shouts, the patio door slamming him in the ass as he’s frozen halfway through it.
I damn near jump and run, but my body went from flight to frozen in two-point-five seconds.
I’m once again teen me who got pulled onstage at a One Direction concert and threw up all over Zayn Malik’s shoes, while he was still wearing them.
Thank god Chase isn’t wide-eyed and tongue-tied like me.
“Nothing, man, just getting some ice cream. You want?” Chase asks him, as he casually reaches behind me, finding something to grab from the cupboard, and moves back to the forgotten ice cream cartons.
“Ari, go to bed.”
That snaps me out of it.
“I’m having ice cream.” I don’t bother trying to hide my annoyance.
“Have it in your room,” he demands, his nostrils flaring.
“Maybe I don’t want… wait.” I look him over, finding he’s still in jeans and a hoodie, and he just came through the back door. “Where were you?”
“Go. Now.”
Dramatically rolling my eyes, purely to annoy him, I snag my water bottle and hop off the counter, my brother’s glare burning into my back as I curve around the countertop.
I bump Mason’s shoulder as I walk past him and he’s quick to grab my arm. His hold is gentle, but his eyes are hard and pointed at his best friend. “You have pajamas for a reason, Arianna. Wear them,” he grits out.
“Tell you what, when you start wearing a shirt in the gym, I’ll consider it.”
He frowns and I slip past him.
Mase can have his little tantrum all he wants. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to muster up all the control I can find to keep from skipping my way up to my room, but the minute I’m inside it, I do a little happy dance.
Holy. Shit.
He couldn’t look away.
He couldn’t stay away.
I don’t even know that he realized it.
Maybe it was best Mason slipped in when he did. Had it been fifteen seconds later, he might have walked in on something else entirely.
Because Chase can’t pretend tonight was all me. It wasn’t.
He asked me to stay.
He stalked toward me.
He—
My door is pushed open, and I jump, spinning around.
“Chase,” I breathe.
“Forgot your ice cream.” His brows are drawn tight, and he blindly sets the treat down on the desk near my door.
I glance at the bowl, layered in caramel. “That’s yours.”
“Right.”
He spins, stepping out into the hall.
Frowning, I push it closed, but before it clicks, he’s there again, and then his hand is sinking into my hair, I’m spun and pressed into the frame.
He glares, his hand shaking, and then he says, “Fuck it.”