Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
At least, I didn’t think so.
The guy that I’d been staring at all night? He was too hot for me.
I was a six on the attractiveness scale. He was an eleven.
Those two didn’t mix.
Not from what I could tell, anyway.
But, as I hurried past the open doorway and into the main part of the bar, I could hear hurried boot steps behind me.
The one good thing I could say about hot guy being in the back was that now the bar was free.
And now I could get that glass of wine—wine that I’d been dreaming about since this afternoon when Reggie threw a fit because I wouldn’t take her to the zoo.
Maybe I could drink it, and then convince Wednesday that I had to go.
It was eight thirty. That was about an hour away from my usual bedtime, and it would be so nice to be at home and get a good night’s sleep, and then not have to take Reggie to school in the morning.
On my day off.
God, I could practically feel my bed calling for me, which made me hesitate halfway to the bar. Which in turn made the man that was following at my back, catch me.
And he caught me—literally and figuratively.
How did he do that, you ask?
Due to my abrupt stop, and his hurried footsteps to keep up with me, it caused him to slam into my back.
My arms shot out to catch my fall that I knew was inevitable, but before my face could make an introduction with the floor, large arms looped around my waist and caught me.
Which then led to me bent over at the waist, his groin pressed against my ass, in the middle of the dance floor, during a song that had nearly everyone in the entire place slow dancing.
I stood up, my non-existent abs burning, and turned, staring at the man that was still holding on to me with stunned silence.
“You okay?” he questioned.
His breath smelled like whiskey.
It wasn’t a bad smell, per se, but it wasn’t my favorite.
But, the rest of him? He smelled like leather, a hint of grease, and man.
And his eyes were a stunning ice blue.
“Yeah?”
My yeah came out as a question, causing his hands to tighten slightly on my hips—hands that he still had firmly locked into place.
“You’re not sure?”
I shrugged and then tried to pull away.
What did he do when I did? Put both of his arms around me...and then start to sway to the music.
Sway. To. The. Music.
He started dancing.
With me.
Me and my two left feet.
“Uhhh,” I said, trying not to enjoy the way his hips were swaying back and forth across my pelvis. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me, but dancing works, too.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, and so, like a fool, I stood there for a few long seconds.
And in those seconds, he took it as consent and continued to dance. This time, he smoothed one hand up my side and then down my arm, latching onto my hand.
The other moved to curve around my hip, hauling me impossibly closer.
By this point, I was on the verge of panic.
What did I do?
I stepped on his foot.
Though, not on purpose.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, pushing slightly on his arm. “I don’t dance well.”
“Well,” he started to let me go, and the feeling of panic started to subside. “I do. So that’s a win for you.”
Then he spun me around like those men did to the ladies on Dancing With The Stars, and I gasped.
When I found myself facing the right way again, he used his hand on my hip to turn me slightly, and then he did another really cool move that had me facing away from him for a few seconds before I was turned back the right way.
I gasped, breathless, and stared at him in shock.
“What are we…”
He leaned forward, and I leaned back.
That was about when I found myself leaning backward, staring at the world upside down.
It went on like that for a few minutes longer as the song finished, and by the time he was finished, I was smiling.
“That was fun.” I patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk away.
He let me go, but only long enough for me to step away and start in the direction of the door.
However, he steered me toward the bar and flagged down the bartender.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked.
A lot of wine, I mentally retorted. Audibly, I said, “Water.”
The man at my side grunted something that sounded a lot like a rumbling laugh, but I didn’t turn to study his face to confirm.
I kept my eyes forward and wondered if I could manage to sit on one of the bar stools without falling.
Deciding that I could likely manage it, I sat, and then immediately cursed myself.