Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“Right.” I clear my throat. “Barb said the same thing, so it must be true.” I realize I’ve been shaking Skyler’s hand for far longer than is necessary. When she draws her hand away, my own feels colder than it did before.
“Thank you,” Skyler says, tucking a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m looking forward to getting started.”
“Let’s get you set up then!” Moodie says. He cups his palm around his mouth and stage-whispers, “But first, I’ll show you where we keep the good protein bars.”
Skyler giggles at his joke, and I feel my brain short-circuit. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such an intoxicating sound, sweetness mixed with amusement. A husky laugh escapes my chest, surprising all three of us. I turn it into a cough.
“It was nice meeting you, Skyler.” I start to move away from them. She looks up at me with those big doe eyes, her expression so open and curious that I have to look away. “I’ve got some work to finish up...”
Moodie calls out a goodbye as I head for the locker rooms, and even though Skyler doesn’t say anything, I swear I can feel her stare warming my back.
I pause at the entrance to the men’s locker room, chancing a glance back toward Skyler. The genuine smile on her face makes my chest clench. I’m so distracted by her beauty that I almost miss the guy eye-fucking her ass from a nearby bench as she passes him.
For some reason, the sight of this random shithead watching her makes my hands curl into tight fists. Every muscle in my body burns to march over there and tell him to keep his slimy eyes to himself.
Who does this asshole think he is? He can’t look at her like that. She’s mine—
I pull the brakes on that train of thought with a shake of my head. What the hell am I thinking? I barely know this girl. I stride into the locker room and sink down on a bench, dropping my face into my hands.
“What the fuck was that?” I mutter to myself. I can’t recall ever having had that strong of a reaction to a woman I’ve only just met. Shaking Skyler’s hand was like touching a live wire—a shock to my whole system.
I feel charged, keyed up, restless in a way I’ve never felt before. I can’t explain it, just like I can’t explain the throb in my chest, the inexplicable need to go back out there and drag her into my office so I can pelt her with questions. Who is she? Where did she come from? How is it possible that a girl I’ve just met can send a hot streak of possession through my veins? Simply knowing another man was checking her out makes me want to lay claim to her.
I shake my head. Regardless of the how or the why, one thing’s for certain: my thoughts and feelings toward Skyler are ridiculously inappropriate—never mind the fact that she’s my niece’s age, young enough to be my daughter. I’m her boss. I shouldn’t be thinking about my employee in ways that make my pants tighten and my head light. I shouldn’t be wondering what expression she’d make if I dragged her into one of the showers, pressed her up against the tile, and slid my hand down the front of her tight pants...
Would she be loud? Would she thrash around, begging me to make her come? Or would she whimper, pressing her own hand to her lips, as I sink my thick fingers into her pussy at an agonizingly slow pace?
“Fuck...” Shaking my head again, I vow to work out twice as hard tonight to clear these thoughts from my mind. I can only hope that, once my mind has quieted, the throbbing in my dick will fade as well.
two
SKYLER
Professor Jameson pushes his glasses toward the bridge of his nose. “That’s it for today. Have a good weekend and remember there will be a quiz on the reading!”
Half the students in class immediately stand up, like flipping a switch. However, since Community Nutrition was my last class for the day, I take my time shutting down my laptop and packing away my notes. I think about what I want to make for dinner tonight as I walk out the door. I have leftover whole-wheat penne with homemade marinara sauce in the fridge, but tonight I’m craving something lemony. Maybe a chicken salad over mixed greens.
My shoulder bumps into someone as I’m trying to recall whether I have any lemons in my fridge.
“Excuse me,” I say.
“No, my bad,” the other person replies.
I turn at the sound of a familiar feminine voice, and sure enough, it’s my ex-friend Crystal. Her blue eyes widen before she quickly averts her gaze, letting her dark blonde hair create a curtain between us.