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)
She snickers at the memory of our earlier conversation—when she was adamant that Brock could kick rocks. “Yeah. That’s true. We do. Or we did.”
“We do.”
“So incorporate us into your plans.” Renn takes a step closer. “I’m a good time. Promise.”
I bet you are. Not that I’ll ever find out.
“Careful,” I say, tilting my chin to look up at him towering over me. “You’ve promised me that before and never followed through.”
His eyes blaze. “Tell me when, cutie.”
Our gazes slam together. The air between us crackles.
And this is where the ambiguity begins.
Our attraction is undeniable. It’s no secret. We flirt ruthlessly, fill conversations with sexual innuendo, and unnecessarily touch whenever we’re together.
But that’s where it ends.
That’s where it has to end.
Renn is the epitome of mistake. He’s the personification of the type of man I’m drawn to—the same type that is wrong for me.
Gorgeous. Charismatic. Skilled. And a bad-boy reputation.
He’s even taken it further than most by getting kicked out of rugby in Australia for excessive suspensions, disorderly conduct, and a social media error that will live in infamy.
Besides that—or because of it—Brock would lose his shit if anything happened between his friend and me.
And I promised myself I would make better decisions going forward anyway. My best decision is to keep a barrier between me and the sexy, chiseled, I can only imagine what he’s like in bed athlete.
I know that. I’m determined to stay safe in my self-care era. But damn, it’s hard.
He bites his lip.
I bet it’s really hard.
“We have a three-bedroom suite,” Brock says, side-eyeing his friend. “It’ll be safer up there, too.”
“No one paid any attention to Ella and me until you two arrived.”
Renn looks me up and down. “Doubt that.”
I ignore him. “If you wanted us to relax in peace this weekend, you shouldn’t have come.”
My heart squeezes as my brother pleads with me to acquiesce.
I appreciate that he wants to be here even though some of that has more to do with Ella than me. But even if she weren’t here, he would be.
Brock goes out of his way to ensure I don’t feel alone. We’re together every holiday, and he calls or texts me daily. I think my seventeen-year-old emotions when Mom died haunt him—my fear that we had only ourselves—because he does his best to make me feel safe and loved.
And that’s part of why he puts up with Renn’s and my antics.
Renn might be many things, but he’s loyal. Brock knows if I needed anything, I could call Renn, and he would come with no questions asked. I know that too. So if we keep things transparent, Brock gives our flirty behavior a pass.
Barely.
Brock sighs. “I want to spend the weekend celebrating you, and the fact that I get to use that time making up with Ella is a bonus. But if I’m here, we gotta take some precautions, B. You know how it is. I’m sorry.”
I frown.
“If you don’t want to hang out with them, we won’t,” Ella says. “I’m here for you, Blakely.”
“She wants to.” Renn picks up my bag and tries to slip it on his shoulder, but his tattooed arm won’t fit through the loop. Instead, he dangles it at his side. “Come on. We’ll let you have the biggest bedroom with the tub that overlooks the Strip.”
“That does sound nice …”
He touches my side, sending a bolt of energy through me. “Then let’s go.”
“If I agree to this, I want a birthday cake. A big one,” I say, shivering as Renn’s fingers press gently through my cover-up and into my bare skin.
“You got it,” Brock says, standing.
“A chocolate one.” I look up at Renn. “With ice cream.”
“Anything else?” Renn asks. An ornery grin settles on his kissable lips.
His fingertips press a touch harder, searing my body with his gentle yet purposeful touch.
I turn my back to my brother and settle my gaze on Renn’s. His jaw flexes, his eyes trained on my mouth. This is one of those moments where the line between playing and foreplay blurs.
Anything else? Such a broad question, Mr. Brewer.
Our eyes lock as I run through a litany of things that qualify as anything else.
His tongue caressing every part of my body. His hand wrapped around my ponytail, pulling my head back while he slams into me from behind. The taste of him as he comes in my mouth.
I grin. “That’ll be all.”
A low, throaty chuckle is his response.
I enjoy the mischief in his eyes before turning and following Ella toward the hotel.
CHAPTER 3
Blakely
“We need fifteen minutes,” Brock says, waiting for me to open the door.
Ella is tucked under his arm, her pool bag in his other hand. She gives me a look of victory, saying my brother is about to apologize to her in ways I’d rather not envision.
I touch the key card to the pad above the handle. They give me a headache.