Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Maybe Emmett was right.
I really did like attracting trouble. Attention was attention, right?
Was that why I’d liked his fist on my chest so much?
I broke off the kiss to breathe in a moment later, looking down at Emmett’s spit-slick lips, glistening under the low light from one of the string lights above.
“Fuck you,” he uttered.
Is this how you look after you come? I thought, the idea flashing through my brain out of nowhere.
I knew a kiss wasn’t equal to an orgasm, or anything, but the way he looked up at me right now… he looked so blown out, his pupils wide, his face flushed.
I suddenly became aware that my hand was still on his hip and I pulled it away, biting my lower lip as my cock hardened under my pants.
“Could’ve punched you instead,” I told him, “but I promise that would hurt more than a little kiss.”
Emmett looked down, bringing his fingers to his lips like he couldn’t believe what just happened. I couldn’t believe it either, to be fair. His lashes were in pretty, dark rows as he looked at the ground, and when he looked back up at me, my chest did something weird all over again.
Why did I keep interpreting him as pretty? As attractive? My brain pathways were all screwed up or something, getting confused by my cock.
He is a challenge, so I have to have him.
“Fine. You win,” he said. “You’ll do anything to push a guy’s buttons, and that includes kissing him, if he’s gay.”
“No,” I said. “I’ve never done that before. That was just for you.”
His eyes scanned my face like he was trying to figure out if it was the truth. “Could this night get any weirder?”
“You afraid I’m going to do it again?” I asked.
“I know you won’t do it again,” Emmett said, sounding very sure of himself.
“And why’s that?”
“I know plenty of straight guys. You kissed me to try to fuck with me, and you were really weirded out by it, weren’t you?”
I actually really, really wasn’t, I thought. I’m kind of weirded out that I wasn’t weirded out by it.
But instead of talking about how I felt, I just leaned in again and crushed my lips to his even harder.
I took the front of his shirt in my fist this time, pushing him back up against the fence, showing him only five percent of my physical force. I felt a button snap on the front of his shirt, so I gripped it even harder. I didn’t give a fuck if the shirt was a thousand bucks. I’d buy him a new one if he asked. Nothing was going to make me back down right now.
“It’s just a kiss,” I said against his mouth, biting his lower lip to see if that would get a reaction. “Do I seem weirded out?”
“You seem like you’re out of your mind,” he said in a low growl.
Who knew the pretty little rich guy was even capable of sounding like that? This was my reward for taking things too far—for going somewhere most people would never usually go.
“Tell me to stop and I will at any moment,” I said.
And I meant it. If I’d had any inkling that Emmett wasn’t comfortable, I’d have stopped in a second.
But when my lips had first touched his, he hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t even stiffened up. I swore he’d leaned in, like something inside him was asking for more, even though he couldn’t do it himself.
I nipped a kiss at the corner of his lips. He moaned again.
“Keep going, Storm,” he said. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll go before you freak about kissing a guy and I win.”
Check, check, and check.
I groaned, claiming his mouth again and taking his wrist in my hand.
God, Emmett was fun. He really thought he could win? He didn’t know me well enough yet to know the most important thing about me: that I wasn’t afraid of anything. I’d spent my whole life doing whatever the hell I wanted to do, so why wouldn’t I kiss a guy? Emmett wanted to push me just as much as I wanted to push him. To lick the taste of whiskey right from his tongue.
And show him that nothing he could say or do would ever get to me. I couldn’t be bought. Couldn’t be messed with. Couldn’t be weirded out.
“Kissed you,” I told him, my voice dropping lower now. “Doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.”
“Where’s Señor Stormy Eyes?” a very drunk-sounding voice came from around the corner.
I broke off from Emmett, turning around just as my friend Mack came around the corner, beer in hand.
The electric thrill shot through me as Mack looked over at us, squinting in the low light.
There it is again. Ready to back down yet, Emmett?
My hand was still gripped around Emmett’s wrist. Mack took one look at it and then looked up at me, his gaze hardening.