Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Mmm, mint makes me sleepy.” Weston lets out a short yawn and pats his mouth before popping the gum inside. “Long day.” He gives me a look and smiles before closing his eyes, chewing slowly.
“You’re not seriously going to take a nap, are you?” Because I seriously don’t think I would be able to stand it. Sitting in this small car with him so close is…well, I’ll just say it: it’s making me want to climb into his lap and kiss him all over. Even the sound of him breathing is making me hot.
“Why, did you have something else in mind?” He’s smirking with his eyes closed.
Perfect.
I do have something else in mind, but I’m not saying so out loud. “Um…not really.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Really?” He opens his eyes and looks at me, the skepticism written all over his face. He looks at my lips before saying, “That’s strange, because I can think of a few hundred things to do right now, and they definitely all involve parts of your body.” He chuckles to himself and I shiver. “Don’t hate me for saying so.”
I dig deep inside myself to summon the inner Jenna who seems to want to come out, and I only falter a split second before murmuring, “So what are you going to do about it?”
Weston looks at me with his eyes wide and says slowly, “I’m sorry, did you just beg me to make out with you, or am I losing my hearing?”
I slap the steering wheel and laugh. “I am not begging you to make out with me. I was just being…suggestive.”
Weston sits up quickly and looks out the window, surveying the parking lot. His hand rests on the door handle. “On the count of ten, we’re going to jump out and get in the back seat. One…two…TEN!” Weston’s door flies open and rain blows into the cab before I can throw my own door open, but soon we’re both in the back seat of my Jeep, wiping the rain from our faces.
“Is this the reason you offered me gum? So I would taste delicious when you finally put the moves on me?” His face is now dangerously close, and I can smell the mint on his breath.
I shrug. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Want to find out?” He digs a piece of scrap paper from his pocket before removing the gum from his mouth and depositing it there.
“Yes,” I whisper, and my head falls to the headrest. Weston’s face is suddenly inches from mine, and even though it’s dark, I can see every line etched in his face. We study each other quietly until his large hand comes up to rest on my face, the only noise from the pounding rain.
I must say, it’s incredibly romantic, and if there were ever a perfect scenario a girl could create in her mind, it would be this one—a hundred million times over.
“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” Weston says, the mint from his breath touching my face before his lips do, soft and light. In the dark of the back seat of my Jeep, his lips linger over the corner of my eyelid, brushing there for the briefest of seconds. “And this…” Now his lips brush the tip of my nose in the barest of touches, so delicately my lips begin to ache.
I inhale the smell of him: his light cologne, the scent of his forest-y shampoo, the fresh aroma of the rain in his hair—and probably mine too. Without thinking, my cheek grazes the side of his face, and I sniff along his strong jawline, wondering where this self-control is coming from. “You smell so good,” I murmur.
Then his fingers are running through my ponytail, caressing the long silky strands before he lets it go and plants his hands behind my head, and I know now he’s about to kiss me. “I wouldn’t mind kissing your lips every day,” he says the instant before our lips meet, slowly—almost excruciatingly so—and it’s so very different from that urgent first kiss on my front porch. The lightness of this contact has me sighing out loud.
Have you ever kissed someone and you could…feel them smiling? Because I swear that’s what Weston is doing, and soon I’m grinning too, because honestly, I’m so damn blissful in this moment.
I could live in this car, surviving solely on his kisses.
Weston pulls his head back to look at me. “What are you smiling at?” he asks, holding my face in his hands, stroking my temples with his thumb.
“Same thing you are, I imagine. Why aren’t you kissing me?” I pucker my lips, and he does.
* * *
Weston
I’ll be the first to admit that being in the back seat of this Jeep isn’t the most ideal situation, but it beats the hell out of the front, where there were too many obstacles in the way, one being the clutch separating the two front seats.