Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
And then it steals the breath right out of my lungs.
Ho-ly. Fucking. Hell.
Blakely stands at the top of the stairs looking like a gift waiting to be unwrapped.
Her dress fits her like a glove that shimmers as she moves. A deep, plunging neckline showcases her breasts. The hem stops just low enough to keep it classy, capping off her toned, tanned legs that look a mile long thanks to those silver heels I found earlier.
Fuck. Me.
“Does this look okay?” she asks, running her hands down her stomach.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you come closer so I can get a better look?”
She takes her time descending the staircase, taking my hand as she reaches the bottom. It takes every ounce of power I have not to kiss the hell out of her.
My body buzzes as we make contact, skin to skin.
Big hoop earrings. Lipstick the same color as her cheeks when she blushes. She’s gathered her hair loosely at the nape of her neck, letting strands hang around her face.
I’m not mature enough for this.
“You are absolutely beautiful,” I say, holding her hand and encouraging her to twirl. “My God, Blakely. How do you expect me not to get punched tonight?”
She giggles, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s how I meant it.”
“Then thank you.”
We exchange a smile that makes my stomach tighten.
“Are you guys ready?” Brock yells.
Fuck you, Brock.
I pull Blakely closer, spreading my fingers against the dip in her lower back. “Want to ditch them and go out by ourselves tonight?”
“That’s funny. I thought you’d want to ditch them and stay in by ourselves tonight.”
“Say the word.” I lean closer. “Say the fucking word.”
Thoughts of unwrapping her out of that dress roll through my mind.
She winks, stepping away. As she moves, she brushes her hand against my crotch. “We’re ready, Brock,” she calls sweetly.
I growl as she walks away.
This will be the longest, hardest night of my life.
CHAPTER 7
Blakely
“Would you like anything else?” Gerald asks, glancing around the table.
Renn sits back, rolling up his sleeves. The motion draws attention to his thick, muscled forearms and the tattoos etched into his skin. His smile hints at debauchery.
“Need anything, Blakely?” he asks.
His question is an innuendo, one I think managed to slip by Brock and Ella. But it didn’t miss its mark … me.
Renn has made me feel like the center of the universe this evening—giving me all his attention, prioritizing our conversations, and not missing a moment to tell me that I look beautiful.
I sweep the lingering notes of overpriced tequila and toasted almonds from my lips. “I’ll have another one of these.”
He lifts a brow. “Really? You’ve had two.”
“I’m glad you can count.”
Renn smirks and turns to Gerald. “She’ll have another one of those, and I’ll have another scotch and soda.”
“Yes, sir. What about your companions?”
Renn takes in Brock and Ella’s canoodling and shakes his head. “I think they’re good.”
“I’ll return shortly. Thank you.”
The restaurant pulses around us, the air filled with laughter, music, and excitement. Vaulted ceilings and deep wood tones blend with twinkling lights and walls of flowers to create an illusion of being indoors and outdoors at the same time. It’s comfortable luxury—and I’m here for it.
My skin tingles from the tequila. It better tingle. I tried to order a cheaper brand, but Renn insisted I try the most expensive version on the menu. It should’ve come with its own bartender for what he will pay for it.
“It’s still fairly early—for Vegas, anyway,” Renn says, glancing at his watch. “What else do you want to do tonight?”
I trail my fingertip around the edge of my glass. “Well, Ella and I did have plans.”
“Yeah, about that,” Brock says, returning to our conversation. He looks at his girlfriend, then at me. “What were you two planning?”
“You wanna tell him, El?” I ask, teasing her. “You said you wanted him to know.”
Her face flushes. “I was mad at him then.”
Brock’s jaw sets. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have a feeling you might be revisiting that emotion soon, El,” Renn says, then downs the rest of his drink.
“What was it, Ella?” Brock asks, unamused. “Let me know what you planned on doing when you were mad at me.”
“You know what? I don’t care. You went to Miami and did who knows what with Renn,” Ella says, sitting taller.
Renn gasps. “I’m offended.”
“Shut up.” Ella gathers herself, setting her attention squarely on my brother. “We had plans to see a bunch of ripped, oily men take their clothes off.” She leans closer. “And I was really looking forward to it.”
Renn bursts out laughing.
“Me too,” I say, taking my drink from Gerald. “Thank you, buddy.”
Gerald tries not to laugh. “You’re very welcome.” He places Renn’s drink in front of him. “There you go, sir.”
“I won’t make this awkward and call you buddy,” Renn says, getting a full-bellied laugh from our server. “But thank you. Also, please bring the check to me.”