Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
There was a pause, then I was pretty sure the sounds of clapping were heard in the background on the other end of the phone. Yes, clapping.
“Are we talking a real life male-female sleepover?” she gushed as if the thought of her daughter potentially having a one-night stand pleased her.
That was my mom.
“Well, I don’t know, I may still come home,” I hedged, not wanting to keep my hopes up.
“Pish posh you’ll be home. Whoever it is that has finally gotten my Lily to open her beautiful self to, will be unlikely to be letting her go home alone,” she stated decisively. “Though, do use protection. I know you’re on the pill, but that’s not one hundred percent. As much as I want to be a grandma, I know you seem hell bent on that college education,” she stated lightly.
Such conversations with my mom were not unusual. She was a free spirit. Open about everything in life and all about free love.
I still felt awkward talking to her about this. Boys had never been on the scene, so we’d not had the opportunity to talk about this. Actually, we had, she’d given me multiple sex talks, but since sex was never a real possibility for me, I’d merely gotten embarrassed at her blasé attitude toward it all.
“I’ll text you,” I promised.
“Okay, hon. And I know it’s your first time. So be sure. Be comfortable. Make sure he treats you right ... and that he takes care of you before he finishes,” she added mischievously.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, gross, Mom.”
“Text me if he does turn out to be an idiot and stand my beauty up. I’ll come and get you,” she offered.
“Mom, it’s late. I’m not doing that,” I protested.
“I’m up, not likely to be going to sleep, I’m feeling inspired,” she told me brightly.
This too was not unusual. My mom was an artist and came with all the idiosyncrasies of being creative. When she was inspired she was usually in a sort of trance, not eating, sleeping, or anything until she was done. This happened routinely over the course of my childhood, and when it did happen, I’d take over all of the household chores and responsibilities. I guessed a lot of kids would resent their moms for obsessively painting for days at a time and leaving them to shop for groceries and pay power bills, but I didn’t. It was part of what made my mom who she was. She accepted every part of me, even the parts I couldn’t accept.
“Okay,” I relented, knowing how embarrassing it would be to get my mom to pick me up when Asher realized that he could do much better than me.
“Love you, baby,” she said.
“Love you too,” I whispered back.
I rang off and stared into the darkness, the sounds of laughter and music carrying slightly.
Who was I kidding?
Asher wasn’t coming back.
“You’re an idiot, Lily,” I muttered to myself, lifting my phone to call my mom and request extraction from this situation.
“What are you doing hiding in dark corners talking to yourself, Little Flower?” Asher’s voice came out of the darkness.
I jumped and let out a muffled squeal as his hands circled around me. His arms tightened on my mid-section and brought my back flush to his front.
“Not that I mind being in a dark corner with you, baby. It means I get to put my hands wherever I want without unwelcome eyes,” his voice tickled my ear, and his hand ran up my side to the bottom of my breast, his other hand dancing at the top of my pants.
I sucked in a strangled breath, wanting his fingers to move, needing them to, but also vaguely aware of the people not far away. It didn’t even matter to me he was a virtual stranger, and his hands were roving in a way that was decidedly familiar. It felt right. Or maybe that was my hormones talking. Or tequila. Or this was an invasion of the body snatchers type situation. Either way, I was enjoying it. And my little holiday away from the shy and anxious Lily.
He stayed like that a moment, before he spun me round, quick enough to make my head spin and his hands spanned my neck. I could make out his silhouette in the darkness, but not much more.
“But,” he continued, “someone like you, is not someone to be quickly taken in a dark corner. Someone like you needs to be savored, worshiped, in the light, where I can get a full view of your magnificence,” he declared roughly.
My stomach did a little flip. I didn’t even care that what he was saying was impossible. Me, magnificent? He was obviously using some line to get me into bed. He didn’t need to. His words and his deep husky voice hypnotized me nonetheless.