Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn the hoodie. I hadn’t been cold in weeks—all I needed to do was think about Greg, and problem solved. Heat flushed along my body, running down my center, leading straight between my legs—
Oh, no.
I groaned as I realized where my favorite sweatshirt was. I’d spilled a glass of water on my arm last time I’d worn it, and hung the black and gold hoodie up to dry on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.
Not my bathroom, but Preston’s.
I could cut my losses, or reach out to my ex, but neither of those options excited me as much as the one that popped into my mind. I scooped up my phone, scrolled through my contacts to Dr. Lowe, and tapped out the message before I had time to think about what a terrible idea it was.
Cassidy: Hey, it’s Cassidy. Sorry to bother you, but I left my hoodie hanging on the door of Preston’s bathroom. Can I come by to get it?
Cassidy: Maybe some time when he’s not there?
I threw the phone down like it was the devil. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was similar to the one I got when I’d called Preston for the first time, back when we were in high school, only this feeling now was more intense. My gut twisted in a knot. My request was dangerous, and it was hard to breathe while I waited for a response.
Time ticked by, one agonizing second after another.
Was he in surgery? Had he read the text and wasn’t sure how to respond? Or was he upset I’d left without saying goodbye? I put my fingertips over my lips and frowned. I shouldn’t have texted him.
I nearly leapt out of my skin when the phone chimed.
Dr. Lowe: He’s at work if you want to swing by now.
I read the text a million times, searching and hoping for hidden meaning, but it wasn’t there. ‘Swing by’ implied quick—he wasn’t asking me to stay. And why would he? I’d run away last time like a coward.
At least he didn’t say he’d leave the door unlocked for me, because that would have been a clear sign he didn’t want to see me.
I was such a jittery mess on the drive over, I didn’t realize I hadn’t turned on the radio until I entered Greg’s subdivision. I’d driven most of the way there in silence, running different scenarios in my head of what was going to happen when I got to his house.
It was dusk when I parked in the driveway, and I followed the brick path up the front step, staring at the glowing button of the doorbell. It felt like the damn thing was mocking me. If I rang it, seeing Greg face to face would be unavoidable.
Wasn’t that what I wanted?
What I craved?
I stabbed the button with a finger and listened to the dull chime ring out inside the house. The decorative glass insert of the front door was made of embossed panels, so I could only see a figure approach, but not his face.
The lock slid with a click, and the door swung open.
Greg wore jeans, a blue t-shirt that clung to his perfect form, and an unreadable expression. My heart tripped over itself at the sight of him. Memories of his hands on me, his body sliding inside mine, made my knees weak.
“Hey,” I breathed.
“Hey.” He pulled the door open wider and stepped back, ushering me in. I took two hesitant steps inside, and before I could say anything, he swung the door shut and moved toward the kitchen, abandoning me. “I brought your sweatshirt up for you. It’s on the counter.”
Oh.
I slinked after him, my head hung in shame. Sure enough, my hoodie sat folded neatly on the kitchen island, right in the same spot he’d leaned me over two days ago and put his hand down my shorts. I could still feel his fingers inside my panties, working to make me come.
He appeared unfazed by my arrival. He moved around to the other side of the island, putting a physical barrier between us, and set his hands on the polished countertop. His expression was still impossible to interpret. He didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look happy, either. If anything, he looked like he was trying very hard to hide whatever he was thinking, and it took all of his focus to be successful.
My gaze fell from him, down to the black sweatshirt waiting for me to collect it and go. “Are you mad at me?”
My voice had been small, but his was light. “For what? Leaving without saying goodbye the other day?”
His tone wasn’t accusatory, but the words were. I pinched my face together with discomfort. “I’m sorry. It was about to start storming outside, and you looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.”