Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Anything. Mostly fiction, with a hard preference for books with kissing.” She shrugs. “Actually, my unironic enjoyment of Taylor Swift and romance novels may be my best proof that I’m not a hipster.”
That makes me laugh, but then I think about how much my mom loves romance novels and my smile falls away. “I told Mom about what we’re doing.”
Teagan cringes. “And?”
I scrub a hand over my face as I remember my mom’s folded arms. Her arched brow and tight jaw that made me feel like I was sixteen again and being lectured for staying out past curfew. “She’s not a fan of the lie, and she’d rather we get married and make her some grandbabies than pretend to be together.” With a sigh, I shrug. “So it pretty much went as expected.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“I’m not. I’d rather her be irked at me and know the truth than lie to her.”
She ducks her head, and her shoulders curl in slightly. “Right.”
“Hey.” I take a step to close the distance between us and lift her chin. When her dark eyes meet mine, they’re full of worry. “I know you don’t like having to do this. I might not totally understand it, but I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t lie to your family if you didn’t think it was necessary. You’re handling this in the best way you know how.”
“Thank you, Carter. You’re a good friend.” She scans my face before her gaze settles on my mouth.
“I think I should kiss you right now.” The words are out before I think about it. I want her, and fuck, if I won’t do just about anything to see the hunger in her eyes from Saturday night.
“Yeah?”
I wonder if she knows she leans into me, that her lips part and her pupils dilate. The sight is enough to make me dumb with lust. “Yeah.”
“But we’re alone. And we have rules.”
“But we need to look natural this weekend, right? I think we should practice.”
“Oh.” She swallows. “Okay.”
I barely have to move to touch my mouth to hers, but when I do, she parts her lips and moans. I suck on her bottom lip, and the hand she has tangled in my hair tugs lightly. Lust surges down my spine.
“How’s that?” I’m breathless from a simple kiss. Damn.
“Not bad,” she answers, equally breathless.
I pull back and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow, eyebrow.”
She draws in a shaky breath. “Tomorrow.” She walks me to the door and opens it, smiling softly.
I stop on her porch and turn back to her. “One more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Top or bottom?”
She blinks. “What?” When I flash her my most lascivious grin, she rolls her eyes. “Goodnight, Carter.” Then she shuts the door.
Teagan
“Welcome, welcome!” Mom says, grinning widely as she greets Carter and me at the doors to the Hayhurst mansion. Tall, lithe, and exuding class, my mom is as beautiful today as she was when I was a little girl. She has honey-brown hair that she wears in an asymmetrical bob and blue eyes that brighten when she takes in Carter. “I’m LouAnn, Teagan’s mom. I’m so happy to meet the local hero!”
Beside me, Carter stiffens, but he takes her offered hand and shakes it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Teagan’s told me a lot about you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Mom says, flashing me a glare. “But my daughter’s been keeping your relationship a secret.”
“We didn’t know if it would go anywhere,” I say. I’m sure I’m going to have to repeat the words a hundred times this weekend. I love my mom, but she takes the whole Catholic mom guilt-trip cliché to the next level.
“She wasn’t sure,” Carter says, grinning at my mother in a way I’m sure will melt the ice-queen thing she’s got going on. “I’ve been biding my time until she was willing to give me a chance.”
“Well,” Mom says, softening as I knew she would, “I can certainly see why she couldn’t resist.”
Dad steps up beside her and smiles. I feel ten again at the sight of him in his typical dress pants and suit jacket, his dark hair parted to the side. I favor my father—the olive skin, and full lips, the build that leans more brickhouse than ballerina. Dad offers Carter his hand. “I’m Kamal. You must be Carter,” he says, his words still curled with shades of the accent that hasn’t quite disappeared in his thirty-some years in the U.S.
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Don’t mind my wife. She likes to worry.” He turns to me and opens his arms. “How’s my beautiful girl?”
I step into his warm embrace, letting him hug me and wrap me in the scent of the cologne he’s worn since I was a little girl. “I’m fine, Daddy. How was your flight?”