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)
The shadow casts perfectly over her face, revealing the slight hitch at the corner of her lips as she says, “To be thoroughly ruined by a man.”
Thoroughly ruined, that’s what she said.
Is she crazy?
Does she not know there are several things you cannot say to a man and that is on the top of the list?
No, she doesn’t. That’s where you come in.
If my girl—she could be yours, you dumb fucker—said something, anything, close to the words Davis left me with last night… there would have been no sleeping.
Not that I got any of that, anyway. It felt like the second my eyes closed, the phone alarm went off, waking my ass right back up. Thank fuck, the day was a busy one, but Saturdays at these kinds of things always are. If it weren’t for Drew being semi-reliable and Paula bringing her cousin on to bus tables on a trial basis, I never would have gotten away from the bar.
That and convincing Julius to stay behind to keep Drew company.
Yeah, that was for straight selfish reasons.
“What are you smirking about over there, asshole?” Willie shouts as he officially douses the coals on the pit, ending our work for the weekend.
“Remembering how quick you were to shoot last night, that’s all.”
“Shit.” He drags out the word. “Lie to me some more.”
“Your wife’s moans don’t turn me on.”
Willie whips me with a towel, and a laugh pushes past my lips.
“Always a funny fucker.” He grins, glancing toward Davis. “We freak the little virgin out?”
A quick, huffed laugh flies from me and Willie’s the one laughing now.
“I knew I heard her!” He tosses the still-wet tongs in the bin, clicking the lid closed. “All airy and soft and shit.”
My mouth waters thinking about it.
The short gasps and warm whimpers.
He said it exactly right.
“So, what happened? You remove the ten-foot pole you cemented between you two for a dumbass reason you won’t share with her?”
My head snaps his way, and I toss the bag of spices into his chest. “Don’t.”
Willie grins, catching the Ziplock with ease. “Oh, my boy and that sexual frustration. So you didn’t come.”
“I’m about to come over there and shove your head in that dirty-ass bucket of dishwater.”
“I will drop to my knees beside it and let you if you go lay one on her right now. I know you’re dying to. Shit, I’m dying for you to.”
“She wants me to fuck her, Will.”
“So do that too.”
“She wants me to fuck her, so she can get it over with.”
“If you think for a minute, the cute little thing doesn’t have your name etched on her organs, you’re a bigger ass than I am.” Willie frowns, but it’s wiped quickly, and he shrugs. Lifting the last of the black tubs, he shoves it into the bed of his truck, slamming the tailgate before leaning against it. “But hey, what the fuck do I know? Looks like she’s having a good time with the flower-power boys.”
A scowl builds over my forehead, and I follow the smoking fucker’s gaze to the clearing. About fifty feet away stands Layla and Davis, the guys who took the Hawaiian theme of their booth far too fucking serious in front of them.
They’re saying something, and both girls laugh, but then Layla stretches, whispering something into Davis’s ear before she heads to the group across the way.
Willie kicks off the truck. “Layla asked the cinnamon roll girls to save her a box. Better get over there before she tries to buy them out of their leftover stock. Have fun watching your woman get hit on.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll make room in my tent, sunshine!”
Shaking my head, I stare at Davis’s back.
It’s obvious the guy to her left, the one who definitely perms his fucking hair, is into her.
Every time she turns to say something to the other dude, he uses the moment to look her over, and he likes what he sees.
Who fucking wouldn’t?
Jean shorts stretched over wide, thick thighs with tears along the front, hints of silky skin peeking out from between the small shredding, and a light-pink tank top. It’s simple, stretchy, no more than the upper swell of her breasts visible. It’s modest, but on her, it looks the exact fucking opposite. Her collarbone and neck, her slender, delicate throat, it’s all on full display, begging to be brushed along. To be touched and teased.
She loves that shit.
The asshole slowly slipping closer, eager to possess all of her attention, is looking to score, but he’s way out of his league.
She’s not even blushing, but she will be.
Downing a water in one go, I toss the bottle into the lawn chair and head right for her.
She’s saying something about hops and ginger, explaining Willie’s beers, maybe, so she doesn’t see me coming. Left guy does though. Right too.