Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“What?” he asks, looking at the blanket and checking the grass for any nearby snakes or nasty bugs.
“This is just… really nice and sweet.”
He puts his fingers down his throat and pretends to gag, laughing when I jump on his back and wrestle him to the ground. We roll over, our feet getting lost in the grass but our heads on the cushioned plaid blanket. It’s so soft and it smells so good.
As he peppers kisses across my cheeks and nose, I giggle beneath him and smile at him when he stops.
“I saw you with Mandy Fucknugget yesterday.”
“Pretty sure that’s not her name,” he replies, grinning down at me. He loves it when I get jealous. And boy do I get jealous.
“You’re not elaborating.”
He bites so hard on my bottom lip I squeeze my eyes shut until he lets it ping free. “Stop looking at me like that. I didn’t touch her. We were just talking. Like you talk to Ren, or Marshall.” The way he says Marshall shows his displeasure for my newer friend.
“Marshall has got nothing on you,” I whisper and his eyes soften in the way his eyes only soften for me and nobody else. “We’re just friends.”
“Uh-huh.” Dipping his head, he sucks on my neck below my ear as I hook my ankles around his thighs. “It better stay that way.”
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were worried about losing me.”
“It’s America, it ain’t that big, I’d find you if I lost you.”
I laugh and push his head away when he goes in for my neck again. I’m so ticklish there and he knows it. It can be my most sensitive zone or my most torturous one. It all depends on the approach. Like now he’s forcing his way there which has set off my tickle receptors, totally a thing.
“Move,” I demand, still giggling. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too,” he mumbles against the swell of my breast, having unzipped my jacket.
He goes down, getting lower and lower as I equal parts laugh and moan, but then he stops at my naval and asks the question he always asks, “Pill?”
“Oops.” I whisper. “We’re good, so long as I take it at some point today.”
He grins up at me and lifts my top so he can kiss and lick my bare skin.
I hum happily and pull on his hair. “How long have we been dating now?”
“Like six months maybe?” he replies, still kissing me. “Why?”
I lean up on my arms and grab his hair to get his attention. “Do you think you might love me?”
He blinks, stupefied and sits up onto his parted knees.
I quickly add, “Not yet. I just mean like… do you think it might happen? I don’t know much about it but I figure when you spend as much time with somebody as we have, isn’t love the next thing?”
“I don’t know dick about love.” He reaches for the bag and drops it beside me. “I don’t wanna talk about something I don’t know dick about.”
Huffing, I cross my legs and tip out the contents of the bag between us. I don’t make a big deal out of his dismissal because truth be told I don’t know how to answer that question either, and to say he has made me the happiest bitch alive would be the biggest understatement in anyone’s lifetime. Plus I don’t want to fight on my birthday.
“Do you think you might love me?” he asks, surprising me as I unwrap the PB and J sandwiches that Felicia made. Kane is the fussiest eater ever. As he said, “If it ain’t meat or it ain’t a sandwich, I ain’t interested.” Sure he’s not entirely serious but I once tried to make him Mee-maws special kale and cheese pasta. He almost vomited. I told him, “I “ain’t” ever gonna make your hillbilly, fried chicken lovin’ ass good food again.”
He annoyingly replied, “You just keep talkin’ in that accent babe and I’ll only ever eat you again.”
Did I mention how much I love it when he calls me babe?
“I don’t know dick about love,” I answer, repeating his words from before.
“You love me.” His arrogance is so fucking irritating. He’s always so sure of himself, yet he’s never sure about me. Or that’s how it seems.
“You think?”
“Yeah.” He stuffs a sandwich in his mouth.
I take a small bite of mine like the young lady I am and stare at him. He looks so much more like a man now than he did a couple of months ago. The muscles in his arms are stronger, probably from all the extra hours working on my bike. My bike. I can’t believe I have a Harley. Grandpa would be so jealous.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because no girl I know would put up with my shit like you do,” he admits, smiling softly at me. “Not even for my amazing dick skills.”