Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“You were kind of a dick to Noah.”
I take a plate and start piling food onto it. “You think?”
“Yes. I think.”
“But would you say I was the bigger dick?”
“He wasn’t—” She catches it a little too late, and her smile wins. “You’re an idiot.”
“You mean I have a bigger dick.”
“I don’t think you need to have a pissing contest with the first guy who crosses our path.” She puts a few grapes and crackers on her plate.
“Jaymes, that wasn’t a pissing contest. Nobody marked you. He wanted me to know he’d slept with you, and I shared the same sentiment.”
“No. You don’t want anyone to know what happened.” She sets a serving spoon down and turns to me.
I feel her intense gaze on my face, but I focus on the buffet. We’re not talking about this right now, so I finish filling my plate and meander toward the windows with the panoramic view of the water.
Over the next few hours, I meet everyone at the party. However, the only names I remember are John and Sadie. John’s the chef responsible for the fantastic food, and Sadie’s the tall blonde bartender running the open bar.
I’m five rum and Cokes (minus the rum) into the evening.
We stand next to Melissa and some guy from the hospital who she clearly likes. I tune out their conversation because I don’t care about bowel reconstruction. “God, I love how that dress looks on you,” I murmur in Jamie’s ear because I’m bored and seeing her blush entertains me.
On cue, heat fills her cheeks.
“I also love how I feel between your legs.”
Melissa and her friend halt their bowel-reconstruction conversation, focusing on Jamie. “Are you okay?”
She freezes. “He’s drunk and saying incoherent things.”
Melissa snorts. “Incoherent or inappropriate? You’re blushing, babe.”
“Stupid things,” Jamie replies with a tight smile while stealing my Coke and setting it on the table. “Your liver’s raising a white flag, Fitzigan. Let’s go. We’ll get a ride back to your apartment.”
Fitzigan? Does she know her pet names for me only get me hard?
“Night, Jamie,” Melissa says while Jamie takes my hand and pulls me toward the door.
“Tell your parents . . .” I slur my words. “T-tell them ‘happy birthday.’”
“Anniversary,” Jamie corrects me.
“My bad. I’m drunk.”
“You’re not drunk.” She tugs me toward the boardwalk next to the lineup of yachts.
“I’m so drunk. I’m afraid we’re going to have sex again or accidentally get another tattoo. But I’m glad you’re sober to stop us from doing epically stupid things.”
She halts, releasing my hand and facing me. “Having sex with me is epically stupid?” Her tone extinguishes every last spark of amusement.
With a heavy sigh, I rest my hands on my hips and glance at the sky for a beat. “Depends.” I look at her. “Can it just be sex for you? Can the tattoos be nothing more than two people getting caught up in a moment of stupidity? Can it not be the end of the world and not be the beginning of anything? Can I not be the reason you don’t travel from job to job, following your dream?”
She balls her hands, and her whole body vibrates while a storm of emotion fills her eyes. “Why do you have to come with a warning? Why can’t you just kiss me like a normal person? Kiss me because you want to kiss me. Kiss me like—”
I kiss her, but not because I’m a normal person. I kiss her because she makes it impossible not to kiss her. Her bravery is commendable. But the problem with normal people like Jamie is they have normal reactions to things like kissing. Jamie has a gooey little heart that clings to things like hopes and dreams, kittens, the cycle of the moon, and late-night kisses.
It’s not a fault. It’s a gift that normal people possess.
I want to jump out of a plane. I want to put out fires. I want to run for miles. Work my body to the breaking point. Rinse and repeat.
I don’t want to kiss this woman. I need to kiss her. It’s my biggest weakness.
“I want you to be mine,” I breathe over her lips while my fingers slide along her bare shoulder to the back of her neck and the bandage hidden beneath her hair. “Until you leave.”
She draws in a shaky breath.
“But I can’t be yours.”
“Why?” She pinches her eyes shut.
“Because I never want you to feel that kind of loss. And you can’t lose what you don’t have.”
Her eyes open. Jamie’s mastered the contemplative look. She’s unintentionally mysterious. One minute, I’m begging her for silence because she’s oversharing, and the next minute, I want to crawl inside her head and get lost in her thoughts, live in her world.
Her fingers lace with mine, and she pulls me down a walkway between two rows of yachts.