Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Get up, butterfly, and meet me in the kitchen. The first time I make you come with my fingers, it won’t be with shit swirling through your head,” he says close to my ear. I move my head to the side and see his green eyes shining brightly. Even the sun is doing its best to kick me while I’m down. He lifts his body away from me before I can respond, unprepared for the palm of his hand meeting my ass in a stinging slap. Which is absolutely not a turn-off at all. In fact, it has my core spasming, blood thrumming, and when his hand stays pressed against my skin, it has me pushing my hips, silently asking for more. “Tulsa,” he groans, still holding the cheek of my ass in his hand. I feel the tips of his fingers dip deeper, almost grazing the fabric of my thong between each cheek. Never has he ever touched me the way he is now. Jesus, I need pickle juice for this raging headache, Nelle to talk me through the way Ledger switches from hot to cold, and last but not least, a pair of dry panties.
“Meet me downstairs. You’ve got five minutes, or I’m coming back up here, tossing you over my shoulder, and getting you downstairs myself. No fucking way we can talk about the shit we need to while you’re tangled between my sheets in my bed, wearing my shirt.” I let out the air I was unknowingly holding. My lungs are hurting, and the pounding in my head is only throbbing harder because of it. Fortunately, or not so fortunately, my bladder is wide awake, which means it’s time to get out of Ledger’s comfortable bed, brush my teeth, and deal with whatever he wants to talk about. Not that I don’t have a lot to say to him either. Ugh, Ella? Really? How was he best friends with Montgomery and still hired that wretched snake? Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty with her white porcelain skin, jet-black hair, and a confidence she carries really well, or at least she did back then. I’m willing to bet she still does. That doesn’t make up for her personality and the snide remarks she’d make behind Mont’s back when she was over. It took me months to finally tell my brother how rude his then girlfriend was. If he stayed with her or hooked up with her after—ick, by the way—I never knew about it. He protected me from as much as he could while no one was there to protect him from a drunk driver. God, life can be a tragic bitch.
I kick off the remainder of the sheets and comforter while still lying on my stomach, which doesn’t help the epic hangover, while I roll over onto my back, groaning with each movement yet gearing up for what I’m going to say once I make my way downstairs. First, I’ve got to stand up, which makes for a humbling experience as my body decides to sway, tempting me to crawl back into bed, eat, breathe, and live there. I can tell you which drink will be added permanently to my list to never drink again: vodka and cranberry. My college years taught me Jose Cuervo is no friend of mine in the tequila department, and wine coolers. Maybe I should just mark off drinking from my list forever. The world stops spinning, my body quits rocking like I’ve been on a boat all day, and I gingerly walk to the bathroom, keeping the light off because there’s no way I need to look in a mirror see myself, only to hide from the man who all of a sudden is ready for more than I think I’m prepared for.
“It’s now or never, Tulsa Rose Montgomery. You wanted the answers, so don’t be pissed when you don’t get the right response,” I tell myself after taking care of my morning necessities, albeit a little differently since I don’t have a toothbrush here or a hairbrush. Probably better anyways not to run anything through my hair with my headache. I take one last deep breath, then head out of Ledger’s room and down the stairs.
14
LEDGER
Sleeping next to Tulsa last night was not a hardship, even if I’m still struggling with blue balls. Hell, since the moment she rolled back into town, it’s been this way, but last night, it was worse. All that beauty in my bed, wrapped around me, holding on to me with every slight movement. It didn’t matter she was three sheets to the wind. Tulsa was practically on top of me the entire time. My hand and arm had nowhere to go, so I tucked my arm beneath her neck, hand on her outer thigh when she threw her leg over my waist. She may have gotten sleep, but I certainly didn’t, having to recite purchase orders, think about the upcoming schedule, or revert to going over my football draft picks from last year.