Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 10631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 53(@200wpm)___ 43(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 10631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 53(@200wpm)___ 43(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
“Where are you parked?” Callum asks him.
“South side.”
“I’m just through those trees. When we’re done here, we’ll sleep it off in my truck and stick around to help.” Callum tells him.
“You sure?” Beck asks.
“Oh, so you’re like… sleeping together?” Tiffany asks.
“Come on, Tiff.” Beck just grins and shakes his head. “She’s way past her limit.”
“Watch her,” I call after him. He waves his hand in the air, letting me know he heard me, but I don’t have to worry. Beck is a good guy, and he and Tiff are close. He’s going to take care of her.
“I should call it a night too.” I hate the words as they come out of my mouth, but the responsible decision would be to sober up so that I can help get this field cleaned up so my bestie's cousin doesn’t throw an all-out fit.
“Come on. We can sleep it off in my truck.” Callum laces his fingers through mine and starts to lead me toward the trees.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say as I fumble to keep up with him.
He stops and turns to face me. I fall into his chest, because all those Solo cups are messing with my ability to respond. “If you think for a minute that I’m going to let you sleep in your car on your own, out here in this field, you’re wrong. It’s not happening.”
“This is Charmed Cove,” I remind him. “And I know all these people.” Well, most of them. At least, I think I do.
“No, Elena.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” I realize, even in my inebriated brain, that my reply sounds as if I’m a ten-year-old, but it’s too late to take the words back.
His deep chuckle causes an ache between my thighs. “Only when you beg me to be.” He bends and lifts me into his arms. I shriek my displeasure, but I still wrap my arms around his neck.
My body heats at his words, but I choose to ignore it. “I can walk.”
“I can carry you,” he counters.
“How are you exactly? We’ve been drinking all night.”
“You’re a lightweight, baby.” He grins, and I want to kiss him. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Are his lips as soft as they look?
“Anytime you want to find out, you let me know,” he replies, his voice gravelly.
“Did I say that out loud?” I ask. There is a part of me that realizes that I might regret speaking those words out loud once I sober up, but the other part is content with his reply, living with zero regrets.
“Yeah, baby. You said that out loud.” He grins and presses a quick kiss to the tip of my nose before placing me back on my feet. He opens the back door of his truck and motions for me to climb in.
“I might need some help.” I could do it. Maybe. However, his help means his hands on me, and I’m still sober enough to know I want that.
Callum steps in close. His front aligns with my back, and his palms rest on my hips. “I’ll lift you.” That’s the only warning I get before he hoists me into the air, and I climb inside. He moves in behind me and closes the door.
Damn, I like his hands on me.
“Is that so?” Callum asks.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. I tend to speak my mind when I’m drinking.”
“Yeah?” he asks, turning to face me. “What are you thinking right now?”
“That I want you to kiss me,” I blurt, quickly covering my mouth with my hand, but it’s too late. The words have been spoken.
“Then why are you all the way over there?” He tilts his head to the side.
“You want to kiss me too?” I ask.
“More than my next breath.”
“Oh. Wow. Okay.” I nod as if he needs permission.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“Come here.” He opens his arms for me, and I’m instantly moving, scooting across the seat toward him. He cradles my cheek in the palm of his hand, and I lean into him, soaking up his warmth.
He leans in close, and my eyes widen. This is really happening. Teenage me is giddy with excitement and more nervous than I was for my first-ever kiss.
“Elena,” he whispers.
“Callum.”
“Close your eyes and just feel.”
My eyes fall shut, and he doesn’t make me wait.
His lips press to mine. At first, it’s just a soft press, but as I bury my hands in his hair, he groans and deepens the kiss. His tongue strokes mine with practiced ease.
I’ve been in what one might call a dry spell in the sex department, so of course, my vagina is on board with what’s happening in the back of this four-door pickup in the middle of a field, of the world's grumpiest man who doesn’t want any of us to be here.