Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
She sighed. “I bet there’s a great ice cream parlor in this town.”
“Several,” I confirmed. “Cherry Tree Harbor is great for anyone with a sailboat or a sweet tooth.”
“I never even got to see the harbor. Or eat any fudge.”
“You should get some before you leave.”
“Are there free samples? Currently I have about five bucks to my name.”
Sympathy tugged on my heart. “Did you ever talk to your friend? Is she able to help you out?”
“She wants to.” Veronica stretched out her legs, and the shirt rode dangerously high on her thighs. “But I don’t really have access to a bank account right now, so even transferring money to me is difficult. We need to find a Western Union or something.”
“Right.” My body was reacting to her bare skin, and my dick was perking up like it wanted a better look. Forcing my eyes away from her legs, I thought for a minute. “I think there’s one in Petoskey. That’s about twenty minutes from here.”
“Twenty minutes walking?” she asked hopefully.
I shook my head. “Driving.”
“Right.” She pointed and flexed her feet. “How many miles do you think it is?”
“Maybe ten or so.” I kneaded my aching shoulder.
“That’s not so bad. I can walk it.”
“I’ll drive you.”
She shook her head. “No. You’ve done enough.”
“I said, I’ll drive you.” God, this fucking muscle was tight as the crotch of my pants.
“You’re too busy.”
“I’ll find the time.”
“I don’t want to be a bother, Austin.”
“Too late, Veronica.” Our eyes met, and her lips parted, like I’d offended her. I thought maybe she’d continue to fight me, but then she smiled.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
Giving up on my neck, I sat back. “Do you always argue so much?”
“Are you always so bossy?”
I gave her the side eye. “Yes.”
Her lips tipped up. “Mabel said you’re the oldest of five siblings.”
“Mabel talks too much.”
“People say that about me too.”
“I believe it.”
“Mabel said you were an awesome big brother,” she went on. “A little overprotective, but always there for her.”
“I was protective of her.” I shifted in the chair. “Our mom died when I was twelve, and Mabel was only three, so I sort of helped raise her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That must have been really hard.”
“We managed.”
She hugged her knees again, going quiet for a moment. “I always wished I had siblings.”
“Take one of mine. Preferably Xander.”
She smiled. “You two don’t get along?”
“Eh, we get along fine. He just knows how to push my buttons.”
“I have a feeling it’s mutual,” she said.
“Xander doesn’t have too many buttons. Not much bothers him.”
“But a lot bothers you?”
“I just like things the way I like them,” I said tersely, rubbing my shoulder again.
“What’s going on here?” She gestured toward the hand gripping my sore muscles. “Did you pull something?”
“Probably.”
She rose to her feet. “Let me help. Stand up.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I said, stand up.” She mimicked my tone from before.
Slowly, I pushed myself out of the chair. We stood close, nearly chest to chest. “Now who’s bossy?”
Her smile was as tempting as her bare legs. “Turn around.”
I rolled my eyes. “Veronica.”
She drew circles in the air with one finger. “Come on. About face.”
Reluctantly, I made a half-turn, presenting her with my back.
Placing her hands on my right shoulder, she began kneading the muscle so hard I winced. “Too much?”
“No.” I closed my eyes and tried not to moan.
“We had an awesome trainer for the Rockettes,” she said. “She was a wizard at getting the kinks out of sore muscles.” One of her hands slipped beneath my T-shirt. “Is this okay?”
“It’s fine,” I said as she worked her thumb beneath my shoulder blade. How long had it been since I’d felt a woman’s hands on my back? My mind drifted into dangerous waters—my hips between her thighs, my body rocking above her.
“But as tall as I am, I do wish I was just a little bit—hang on.” She jumped up on the chair and rotated me so I faced away from her. “This is better. Now I can use my elbow.”
I groaned as she dug her elbow into my flesh. “Fuck. This is brutal. Is this because I didn’t hire you?”
She laughed. “Yes. It’s a revenge massage.”
“It’s very—Christ, that hurts—effective.” As she tortured me, I tried to keep myself from making too many noises—they all sounded sexual—and from thinking about her hands anywhere else on my body.
Or my hands on hers.
Those mile-long limbs were so pretty. And she was so flexible. What kinds of positions could she get herself into? I imagined them flung over my shoulders, or maybe pressed together and straight up, my hands locked around her ankles as I slid into her tight, wet—
“I think that’s good.” I took a step away from her.
“Did I get it?”
“Yeah.” I turned around to help her off the chair at the exact moment she hopped down, and our chests collided. She stumbled back, and I caught her by the elbows.