Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“How’s your—” I start at the same time Cash says, “You’ve…”
“You go first,” I offer, not wanting to douse the tension crackling between us by bringing up a sore point.
It is obvious his father’s condition has him panicked he’ll face the same diagnosis down the road, but I’m hopeful one day he’ll realize his father’s schizophrenia isn’t from having a brilliant mind. A single gene or organ isn’t responsible for it. Multiple factors come into play and very rarely are they hereditary.
“I was going to say you’ve got some chive stuck in your teeth.”
Mortified, I scrub my tongue over my front teeth before bearing them like a dog. “Did I get it?”
While shaking his head, Cash scoots forward. “You missed a bit.”
I’m not sure how he thinks he can remove the chive from my teeth with his hand, but I remain as still as a statue when he raises his hand to my mouth.
I want to die a thousand deaths when he scrubs his thumb along my teeth. If it isn’t embarrassing enough I have food stuck in my teeth, his thumb makes a squeak noise with every scrub it does.
“Is it gone now?” My voice is hanging as low as my shoulders.
Air whizzes from my mouth when Cash once again shakes his head. “As suspected, the thumb scrub didn’t work. I guess I’ll have to try something else.”
When his fingers weave through my hair, I mutter, “Do I have a twig?” My words are switched for a moan when his tongue makes the same trek his thumb just did. However, there’s no squeak this time.
Well, if you exclude my wheezy pants.
His mouth tastes delicious, better than any food I’ve sampled, but I only get to soak it in for the quickest second before Cash sinks back to his side of the carpet and returns his focus to the pasta responsible for my near coronary.
Cash peers up from the carbohydrate goodness when I murmur, “Did you get it this time?” I stop replicating a mutt with rabies when he jerks up his chin. “Are you sure? I don’t want to look silly walking around with food between my teeth. Maybe you should check again.”
Before he can assure me my teeth are chive-free, I grab a handful of pasta, smack it against my front teeth, then scrub it in like it is the new formula of a tooth-whitening paste.
I talk through the clumps of pasta dropping down the front of my shirt. “Because I’m reasonably sure you missed a bit.”
I’ve never felt more stupid, and the blows keep coming when Cash stands to his feet, then heads for the door. “You’re leaving.”
After lowering his beanie over his head, he replies, “No, we are.”
Not speaking another word, he plucks me from the floor, guides me down the stairs, then makes a beeline for the entrance. Not even Reynolds’ declaration that he had a killer game tonight slows his strides. He practically jogs us outside, which means I’m out of breath long before he pins me to the big oak tree shadowing my building, lifts my head, then seals his mouth over mine.
He kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before, an embrace so blistering hot, if we weren’t in public, being eyeballed by fellow students, there’s no way I’d leave our exchange with my dignity intact.
I realize that’s the point when after a final lick of the inside of my mouth, Cash inches back, rests his forehead on mine, then murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve missed that mouth. I should have never promised your mother not to sully you in your dorm.” I don’t get to voice my shock. “Supposedly, the walls are paper thin.” My hands shoot up to cover my ears when he adds, “She said it took months for the nickname she gave your father’s pecker to stop circulating throughout the campus their senior year.”
“That’s way too much information.”
Cash’s smile restarts the tingles between my legs. “Tell me about it. I almost tossed up my Frosted Flakes when I visited the farm earlier today.”
“You went home?”
He jerks up his chin. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. Not at all.” I love that he felt comfortable enough to do that. “Are you mad I’ve been visiting your family?”
“Not at all,” he mimics, his reply as easygoing as our conversation. “But I think you need to start being a little harsher with Trenton. He didn’t shut up about you yesterday. It is lucky for his teeth, he was telling me all the ways you’re perfect for me.”
I thought Trenton was a grumpy grouch, but I can see our friendship blossoming even more now.
Cash takes a moment to relish my smile before asking, “Am I too late?”
As I bounce my confused eyes between his, I ask, “For?”
With his lips tugged on one side, he asks, “For the mentorship program? The first one had a false start, but I heard the cubicles at the library book out months in advance. You can’t just show up and demand a booth. No one is that popular.”