Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I feel so small next to him, and I shouldn’t feel so comfortable. I should be darting inside and shutting the door and calling Bellamy with the details of tonight. Instead, I’m contemplating what his lips taste like and where his hands will fall when he kisses me.
His teeth graze over his bottom lip. Slowly. And as he releases it, I’m mesmerized by how red his lips are.
God, this man is sexy.
A host of butterflies take flight in my stomach while I wait for him to make up his mind or make the next move.
Please let it be the next move.
I force a swallow as my nerves start to get to me.
He reaches forward, his hand stalling midair before grazing the side of my cheek. The confidence I expect from him is mixed with a surprisingly sweet hesitation.
He’s beautifully confusing. What you see isn’t all you get.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, stroking the side of my face. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
I can’t shake myself out of the almost-trance I’m in to find the words to respond, so I nod.
I hold my breath as he searches my eyes for something. Whether he finds it or not, I don’t know, but his hand falls to his side.
“I better get going,” he whispers, finally taking a step back.
A rush of breath escapes my lips as I look at him like he has to be kidding.
Resolution is seated in his face as he forces a smile for my benefit. “Good night, Larissa.”
What?
He says it like an apology. As though he knows what I expected, and he is to blame for that.
I lift my chin.
“Uh, good night, Hollis,” I say, hoping I don’t stumble over the words too much. “Be safe.”
Be safe? Oh, my gosh, Larissa.
“I’ll text you tomorrow and make sure everything is still a go.” He walks back down the steps.
I nod, watching him turn and jog down the sidewalk.
My heart sinks in my chest. It kills the butterflies.
Dammit.
I go inside and shut the door. My nerves are racing over the non-kiss, and I can’t help but wonder if I was too pushy. Or too obvious.
I wanted that kiss so damn bad that I could almost taste it. I was sure Hollis wanted it too.
Maybe I just can’t read men anymore.
Or maybe it’s that Hollis isn’t what I expected him to be.
I sigh.
Maybe I shouldn’t be kissing him in the first place.
My purse hits the table with a thud. But before I can walk toward my room, a knock raps quietly behind me. I spin around and look through the peephole to see Hollis.
I swing the door open with a flourish.
“What the—”
Hollis steals the words from my lips. He presses his mouth to mine with a mixture of tenderness and aggression that takes my breath away.
His mouth is hot, his body is hard as he presses it against mine. His fingers are rough as they cup my cheeks.
My brain misfires, unable to process this quick turn of events. By the time I get myself together, he’s pulling away.
A deep smirk offsets a broodiness in his eyes that has me reaching for the doorframe to keep from falling over.
“My mom,” he says as he walks backward again.
“Huh?” I ask, my brain still clouded from the kiss. “What do you mean?”
“She’s the one who burned me.”
I stand on the porch, mouth hanging open from both the kiss and his admission, and watch him climb in his car. He starts it up, and, with a rev of his engine, he rips his way down the street.
I touch my fingers to my cheeks, mimicking his hold on me.
My brain replays the past few minutes just as I told him I always do. His touch was gentle yet strong. His kiss was sweet but still utterly suggestive. But as I sort through each touch, each sensation, my mind settles on one thing.
She’s the one who burned me.
“What the hell does all of this mean?” I ask out loud.
With a final look at the empty street, I step back inside and close the door.
Eleven
Hollis
A man smiles my way as we pass each other on the sidewalk.
“Good morning,” he says, giving me a friendly wave.
I nod. “Good morning.”
I hunker down in my jacket, my hands stuck in the pockets, and make my way across the street.
The sun is brighter than I expected before lunchtime, and I squint as I look up into a cloudless sky. Air moves breezily around me, ruffling the storefront canopies along the sidewalk.
The shops are still dressed for Christmas. Wreaths still hang on doors. Tinsel is draped around windows despite the holiday having passed. It reminds me of the little towns in movies that some girls in the sorority houses watch after Thanksgiving. I’ve only seen a few minutes of them at a time, and that’s enough for me.