Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Except, it appears this time I have, because it’s nowhere to be found.
“Ugh,” I practically growl, flinging clothes out of my suitcase. I didn’t use it last night because I was half-drunk and didn’t feel like digging for it, but I swear I packed it.
The sound of someone clearing their throat has me turning to find Holden through the crack in the door, his eyes glued to my ass. I face him, hand on hips, not bothering to shield myself from his perusal. “Ever heard of knocking?” I ask, throwing his words from last night back at him.
He nudges the door open, stepping through the threshold. In his hands are an ice pack, a bottle of water, and a white bottle of pills from the looks of it. “Give me your wrist.”
I narrow my eyes, clutching my wrist with the other hand as he comes to a stop in front of me. “How do you know I hurt my wrist?” It didn’t even hurt enough to mention—just tweaked it when I fell—but somehow, it didn’t escape his notice.
“Because I’m not blind. Give me your wrist,” he repeats.
Instead of giving in, I snatch the ice pack from him, noticing he has an extra. “Thanks,” I mutter, turning around to give him my back. When I don’t hear him leave, I look at him over my shoulder. “You can go now,” I say, dismissing him.
He tosses the water and bottle of Ibuprofen onto the bed in front of me, but still, he doesn’t leave. Instead, he moves in closer, his warmth radiating to my back before he even makes contact. I feel his finger slip underneath the bra strap that has fallen down my shoulder, and he gently guides it back into place. I force myself to keep my breathing even, mentally chastising myself for getting so worked up from a single touch. Keeping his finger under the strap, it burns a path down my shoulder blade. I shiver, my eyes falling shut. Holden moves in even closer, until his front is fully pressed against my back. A hand smooths down my side, stopping to clutch my bare hip. My heart slams against my chest. We haven’t exchanged more than two words to each other in the last year, and now he’s touching me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. As if I belong to him. And I’m letting him.
“One of Ryan’s friends asked if we were together,” I say, in an attempt to create some distance between us—of both the emotional and physical variety. “The redhead.”
“And? What’d you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“And what is the truth?”
“That you’re single. I told her she should make her move.”
“Is that what you want?” His grasp on my hip tightens.
“Why would I care either way?”
His hand flattens against my side before smoothing down my stomach, resting just above the band of my underwear. My breathing stops, heart pounding as the tip of his pinky slips beneath the elastic. I should tell him to stop. I should push him away and lock the door. But some stubborn part of me has me rooted to this spot.
“And if I want you instead?” His pinky slides back and forth, taunting. Goosebumps spread down my arms at his touch.
“Not an option.”
He doesn’t respond, and a second later, his palm meets the center of my back and pushes me forward. A gasp flies from my mouth as I hit the mattress, my ass on full display. Seconds feel like hours as I wait for his next move.
I yelp when he slaps the other ice pack against my sore ass before walking away and leaving me here feeling like an idiot.
“Fuck you.”
“I would, but I believe you already volunteered someone else for the job.”
Four hours later, the sun has set and we’re at the lodge bar. It’s packed full of people and the few beers I’ve had are doing their job, making my sore muscles feel loose and relaxed. Thayer, Holden, and Ryan are off playing pool while Shayne and I strategically stand right in front of the fire to keep from freezing our asses off.
“There are a lot of hot guys here tonight,” she hedges, glancing around the room over the rim of her glass.
“Haven’t noticed,” I tease.
“Seriously. How long has it been? I thought you were going to put yourself out there.”
I roll my eyes. I tried, but after two different hookups and getting absolutely nothing from them, I realized I need to be a bit more selective. “I tried, but they’re all so…disappointing.”
“What was wrong with that guy you met in the dining hall? He was cute.”
I shrug. “He used way too many exclamation points in his texts.”
“What about the guy who asked for your number in class?”
I scrunch my nose in disgust. “His fingernails were too long.”