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)
“For tonight, anyway.”
We watch each other closely. Somehow, using that term shifts the energy between us.
She turns her body to face me. “You know what I told Bells before I came here?”
“No.”
“I told her I’d trust my gut.”
I nod. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
She presses her lips together. “Well, my gut tells me we should put a stamp on our fake relationship, so everyone here knows I’m taken.” She looks up at me through those damn lashes again. “Because I would hate for you to get in a fight over me.”
Instantly, my cock strains against my pants.
I wrap an arm around her back and pull her into me. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t resist at all. In fact, she leans against me and brings one arm lazily over my shoulder.
I’m fairly certain that it would always feel like a level of heaven to have her—a woman so beautiful and funny and smart and classy—up against me. But we aren’t in a frat house or a bar or even at a place that I invited her to like last night. We are here—with her people. People with money and class. People I don’t associate with much because I’m the poor college kid who barely scrapes by.
To have her in my arms is amazing. But to have her willingly in my arms in this situation? It’s another fucking level.
I grin. “Sweetheart, you're going to need to define what put a stamp on it means to you because the definition going through my head might get the police called for public indecency.”
She sways back and forth just enough so that her body rubs against my groin. I think it's by accident, but the twist of her lips tells me it wasn't.
“I’m warning you,” I tell her.
“Warnings are for chumps.”
I chuckle. “Is that so?”
“People only issue warnings if they don't want to have to follow through.” She shrugs cockily. “I don't know what you're warning me about, Hollis, but I hope it doesn't mean that you're taking options off the table.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Are you goading me?” I asked her, surprised. “Because you don't know who you're fucking with, and you just might be out of your league, little lady.”
She runs her fingers against my lapel again. “You know what I think about you?”
“No, but I'd love to.”
“I think you're all talk and no action.”
I stare at her dumbfounded. “Aren't you the girl who was telling me how you have this problem with guys like me?”
She nods. “I do have a problem with guys like you. I like you,” she says, annunciating each syllable clearly. “But you, specifically, I have a definite problem with.”
I lock my other hand at the small of her back and pull her into me even closer. The half an inch that was between us a moment ago is gone.
“Please, tell me. What is your definite problem with me?” I tease.
“I always end up in terrible relationships with guys like you,” she says slowly. “I don't know if it's the athlete part of it that's the problem or if it's the way that I interact with them, but me getting involved with guys that play sports—or work in the sports field, for that matter—is a no-go. Flat-out. But you, Mr. Hudson, are a special kind of trouble.”
I'm not sure if we're still playing here. Is someone watching, and we're supposed to be making a show of being an item so they leave her alone? I don’t know, but I'm going to roll with this to see.
If she wants me to act like I’ll fuck her, I will.
And if she wants me to actually fuck her, I'll do that too.
She’s sexy as fuck, and I’m horny as hell. And have been since the first time she looked up and into my eyes.
“I've been called troubled before,” I admit, playing along. “By lots and lots of people.”
“I can see why,” she says, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.
The contact makes me crazy. The weight of her hand on the sensitive skin of the back of my neck heats my blood and makes me shiver at the same time.
My pulse kicks into overdrive. My body almost trembles as I stare into her hooded eyes.
“You pose a different sort of problem for me,” she says.
I'm trying to stay calm and let her work out whatever this is. But with every brush of her fingertip and every sway of her hip, I find it harder and harder to be patient.
“What kind of problem?” I ask.
“Well, I had sworn off guys,” she says, “but really, I swore off relationships with guys.”
“So, a relationship with girls is okay?”
She silences me with a look.
“Sorry. Continue,” I tell her, enjoying the feeling of having her in my arms.
“I can't really have a relationship with you, now can I?” she asks. “Because you’re going home in a few days. Our relationship pact expires tonight. I'm not going to run into you or find myself in precarious situations with you all winter, now am I?”