Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Even though it’s difficult, I force my lips into a smile. “Then it’s a date.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Carson
“Hey, you ready to go or what?” Brayden asks, pausing outside the living room where I’m sitting on the couch, playing a video game. “We’re leaving in ten.”
I keep my gaze focused on the big screen TV and shake my head. “No, sorry. Can’t make it.”
A surprised silence follows that response. I know my friend well enough to realize he’s studying me with a quizzical expression. I can practically feel the burn of his gaze, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to squirm beneath it.
“How come?”
I clear my throat and do my best to avoid eye contact. “I’ve got a shit ton of homework to finish up tonight. I’m just taking a ten-minute break before hitting the books again.”
“That sucks,” he says, drawing out the two words. “I can’t remember the last time you missed one of Elle’s opening night performances.”
This will be the first.
I shrug. “I’ll try to catch a different show next week.” In all honesty, I have zero plans to show up for a performance. I’m doing my best to avoid her right now. Sitting in a dark theater for a couple hours while staring at her won’t help matters.
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “I’ll let her know.”
It’s only after his footsteps fade from the entryway that I release the pent-up breath I’d been holding hostage in my lungs and toss the controller onto the wooden coffee table after I crash and burn on the screen.
If that’s not a fitting metaphor for my life, I don’t know what is.
Stroking my hands over Elle was a big fucking mistake. One I regret and yet can’t stop thinking or fantasizing about. I won’t even tell you how many times I’ve locked myself in the bathroom and jerked off to thoughts of her. Reliving the precise moment she fell apart beneath the stroke of my lips and tongue. The way she’d clutched my head, holding me to her as I lapped at her clit.
The memory alone is enough to have my cock stirring in my athletic shorts.
Which is exactly why I’ve gone into avoidance mode. At this point, I’m hanging on to the last shreds of my self-control by my fingertips. It won’t take much for it to come crumbling down around my head and I’ll finally take what was never meant to be mine.
The worst part of all this is that I’m lying to my best friend, a guy who has always been there for me no matter what. I’m avoiding him as much as I am his sister because I’m afraid that if he looks hard enough, he’ll figure out my dirty little secret.
The Kendricks are like family. Brayden, Elle, and Katherine. I can’t risk losing them.
When the front door slams shut, my shoulders collapse and I bury my head in my hands, wishing there were a way to evict her from my brain once and for all. How the hell am I going to get through the remainder of the year without laying my hands on her again?
Without taking what she saved for me alone?
That knowledge leaves me groaning. It’s sweet torture to realize that no other guy has touched her. Has thrusted inside her tight heat. Has given her an orgasm with the stroke of his cock.
I want to be the one to give her all of that.
And more.
I glance up to find Asher staring at me. His brows are drawn together, and there’s a quizzical expression on his face.
“Huh?” If he asked a question, I have no idea what it is.
He points to the controller before enunciating his words carefully. “Are you playing the game?”
I shake my head. “Nah. Go ahead.” My brain is too full of Elle to focus on anything else. Even a stupid video game. And I feel guilty as shit for blowing off her play. It’s already eating me up inside.
He drops onto the couch and grabs the controller before waiting for the game to load. A few beats of silence creep by before he gives me a bit of side-eye. “What’s your deal?”
I shrug before crossing my arms against my chest and staring sightlessly at the screen. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is fan-fucking-tastic.”
“I don’t know about that. It kind of seems like something’s crawled up your ass. I’m just wondering what it is and how we dislodge it.”
This isn’t a conversation I want to have.
Especially with Asher.
Which is exactly the reason I pull something out of my ass. “There’s a lot going on with playoffs and the conference championship. Not to mention the bowl game, draft, and school.” When I rattle off all the bullshit that could be giving me issues, even I’m astounded that I’m holding everything together as well as I am. Except none of those things are weighing on me. Classes are going well. I’ve always been a straight A student without much effort on my part.