Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
His eyes darken. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”
“What?” I snort. Very unladylike snort. His shirt flops open on me and I twitch it back. “No. I def… definitely…” I speak slowly and enunciate, “have had sex. I just don’t have a boyfriend. They are a waste of time and brain cells. They want someone to stick their dicks into and make them feel good about themselves, and they don’t give anything in return. Men just take. I don’t have the energy for that. I’ve got important work to do. Trees to… sample.”
Caleb grunts. He takes another pull of the bottle. My eyes fix on the hooch. I wave a hand. “Give that here.”
He doesn’t relinquish it, but he holds it to my mouth and lets some dribble in.
“Hey!” I wipe my mouth, savoring the numbness on my tongue. “That’s not enough.”
“I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” I shudder. “Dr. Alogore calls me that. Makes me want to puke.”
“Maybe you should get your man to talk to him.” Caleb looks like he wants to stab something.
“Don’t have a man. Imma own womma.” I smack my lips, trying to get feeling in them, and try again. “My. Own. Woman. I can take care o’ myself.”
“Hmm,” Caleb says against the rim of the bottle.
“Whadda ya mean, hmmm. You said that very…” I give him side eye.
“I mean, you need a man.”
“Please.” I slap the table with my hand. “I don’t need a man or anyone.”
“I mean… you should have a man. Woman like you.”
I raise a brow.
“Beautiful,” he says and the world turns pink. La vie en rose. I thought it was only a song. Arousal mimics intoxication, and vice versa. Combining the two can be dangerous…
“Thank you.”
“You need to eat more,” Caleb says accusingly. He pushes away from the table, rummages in the cabinet. Comes back with a bar of chocolate.
“O-M-Gee.” I grab it with both hands. “I love you.” The numbness has moved elsewhere, probably to terrorize my liver. Food is just what I need.
He drops in his seat across from me, looking pleased. He doesn’t even blink when I rip off the wrapper and cram the chocolate in my mouth with both hands. I eat like a chipmunk preparing for winter, and look up at him with both cheeks full.
“You would make someone a lovely boyfriend.”
“No,” he mutters, and I agree happily.
“No, you’re right. You’re a grouch. But the saving my life, making me breakfast, giving me chocolate…” I give him a thumbs up. “Did I thank you, by the way?”
“Yeah.”
I wipe my mouth and say it again. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“No problem.”
“And for calling me beautiful.”
His gaze shoots up and meets mine and I’m stunned. A ripple goes through my body—a shockwave of desire. The room, the snow outside: everything is the same. And everything is different.
“Um, that was nice of you,” I whisper.
“No problem,” he says to the tabletop.
I finish my chocolate. “Sorry, I should’ve saved some for you.”
“It’s okay.” He has a strange look on his face. “You can make it up to me. Your turn. Truth.”
“Me?” Is it my turn? “Wait, that’s not how it works. I get to choose.”
“Truth,” he insists. “Why don’t you have a man?”
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“I mean a man,” he emphasizes firmly.
“Why don’t you?” I retort. He shakes his head. I sigh. I do owe him for the candy bar. “Truth? I don’t like sex.”
“What?” He freezes.
“I said I don’t like sex.” I lift my chin. “It’s completely overrated.”
“Overrated.”
“Yeah, you know,” I wave my hand. In for a penny, in for a pound. “All this wooing and all the love songs, and what they write in romance novels. It’s not true. Sex is messy, sometimes it’s downright gross. At least it lasts only a few minutes.”
“A few minutes,” Caleb repeats disbelievingly.
“Yeah.” I get defensive. “Don’t tell me you take longer or something. Every guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women and… well, it’s just disappointing.”
I fiddle with the candy wrapper. The heat of Caleb’s… emotion or something emanates from him. Sears me across the distance between us.
Caleb sets the bottle down with a decisive thump. I jump as his chair scrapes backwards and he prowls around the table, plants a hand in front of me and on the back of my chair, and leans in close.
“Are you telling me”—his eyes rove up and down my face—“that a woman who looks like you, with that hot as fuck body… has never known pleasure by a man?”
Caleb the mountain man, pulling no punches.
My pussy clenches. Heat feathers across my skin.
“Um—”
He lays a big hand on my collarbone, his thumb finding my pulse and lightly stroking. Holy hell, my body comes alive. The angel choir is singing, and he’s barely even touching me.
“Body like this was made to be stripped naked. Stroked all over.” His voice seeps into secret places. I usually hate—despise—being reduced to a pair of big tits. Objectification of women makes me crazy. But my body responds to his every word. His eyes meet mine with the impact of a stun gun. The light hits them at a strange angle, making them appear yellow instead of brown. “…worshipped. I would take so much time…” His hand cups the back of my neck, massaging. I melt. Ten seconds, and I’m butter on a hot griddle. “Countless orgasms,” he murmurs. “Endless pleasure. The fact that you haven’t met a man to give you all that, baby… it’s a crime against humanity.”