Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“Show me you want more.” His lips find the opposite ear now, and he glides them across the lobe. “Let me know you like what you’re feeling.”
My eyes snap closed, my head dropping onto his chest, and suddenly, my breaths grow more labored. My lungs expand past normal, and with every deep inhale, my mind and body are consumed by Crew.
His scent, his heat, his touch.
God, his everything.
My hand comes up, sliding along his neck until I can tether it into his hair, and I do. I wrap my fingers around his locks and tug. The little groan that fans along my skin has me doing it again, and Crew’s fingertips dig into me.
I spin in his hold, and his eyes shoot down to mine. Maybe it’s the dopamine coursing through my veins, but I’d almost swear they’re half-hooded, wanting, and it’s only me standing here.
“Crew…”
His brows dip low, nearly touching in the center. He lets go, steps back, and nods his head. “Good, that’s good. Mastered on your first try.”
I blink.
He walks away, but before I can decide to follow, a smiling Layla is there grabbing my arm. She pulls me forward, Willie passing us by on his way to catch up with Crew.
“You have to come to the festival this weekend! It’s going to be so fun. X and Neo can’t come because they have baseball stuff, but Julius and my friend, Toni, you already met, will be there. You can help pour beer or slave away on the hot grill with the boys.”
“So, this is a working festival?” I tease.
“Yes, yes it is.” She laughs. “We’re trying to get some investors for Willie’s beer, see if we can’t up our production and get into more bars or restaurants around town.”
I look ahead at the boys. “You sure the boss won’t mind?”
“Your boss or mine?”
Laughing, I look at her with a scrunched nose. “Both?”
She winks. “Don’t worry, sister. You’re on the list. But I should probably tell you now, it’s sort of a free-spirited thing, we sleep in these cool teepees, and they’re all booked up. Crew would be your roomie.”
A tiny teepee with the man who makes my vagina vibrate with nothing but a look.
Sounds like torture.
But, then again, what part of being hopelessly attracted to a man you can’t have isn’t?
Chapter Eighteen
Davis
Every year, I request the week after finals off, and usually, I spend the time doing absolutely nothing productive but stimulating my mind with some serious binge-watching. During the school year, I won’t start shows because I know myself and my teenage, angst-loving heart can’t simply walk away after an episode or two, and pick up later like a normal person. No. I watch the sucker from episode one to the bittersweet end. It’s honestly the best.
But this week is different, my life will now be different.
With the drop of a pencil, that was it.
My final, final. My very last, last day of school.
I am freaking done, and I am so damn excited about it.
Willie’s stand at the Brews and Barbeques Festival couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m juiced. Beyond so because, holy crap, I have somewhere fun to go and people to go with.
Layla took away any nerves I had seconds after telling me I should come by, shouting that I was coming, and she didn’t even have to break it to Crew he’d be my partner in sleep for the weekend. He insisted before she could get a word in.
So, this fine Friday afternoon, we’re standing behind a makeshift bar under a giant cedarwood tree. Layla explains the process of brewing, sharing the flavor profiles in the hops they use and different ways of approaching the bitterness versus the citrus options. Half the people want to know every detail she’s willing to share, my nerdy little science self included, and the other half nod politely, while waiting for me to pour them their liquid fun.
It’s not until closer to seven, when the vendors shut down for the night, and the partying begins. Most people start out in their own camping areas, eating and drinking the leftovers of their day’s production and listening to music of all kinds coming from every angle based on preference.
Tucked behind our serving and cooking stations is a giant see-through netted tent, the kind meant to keep the bugs away, and inside are two tables arranged in an L shape, paper products, utensils and all the goods spread out along them. I grab a plate and start shoveling a little of everything onto it. Unable to help myself, I stick the pad of my finger into the gravy oozing over my meat and bring it to my lips.
“Good?”
Setting my plate on the table before me, I look to Crew, smiling. “So good. You were right. Layla can cook.”