Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
And I drive off, flipping him the bird.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dart
The moment the door opens, I step inside her place, taking her in my arms and capturing her mouth instantly.
“Mmm,” I growl against her lips, my hands going straight to her ass for a tight squeeze. “I missed you, baby doll.”
Tennessee grins up at me, and damn, what a sight. “Same,” she gushes, cupping my jaw. “I don’t know why, but it’s almost as if last night was a fairy tale or something from a movie.”
“Was it the dragons or the stepping on a condom this morning that did it for you?”
She snorts against my lips as she strokes her hands over the small of my back. “Or maybe it’s because I am deliriously happy.”
Good God, I can’t get enough of that grin.
“Mmm, I love hearing that,” I mutter, kissing her again. I pull back as her thumb glides along my jaw, and I notice she isn’t wearing what I thought she’d be wearing. I hold her out in front of me to check her out, and she gives me a confused look. “I thought you’d wear your boots and a lot more orange.”
She smacks me playfully in just a Vols shirt and jeans. I totally thought she’d be decked out. She turns, showing me her butt that has TN patches on the pockets. “I even have my Vols socks on.”
She may be speaking, but all I’m doing is looking at her thick ass in some tight jeans with the UT patches that are fraying at the edges. I have half a mind to nibble them off, but I know she’d fight me on that. “Sorry, I was distracted by your ass.”
She leans into me, laughing as I kiss her temple. I look around the room, and it’s not what I expected. The walls are a boring white, and I don’t know, I thought she’d have orange furniture or at least something UT on the walls.
“You’re being super judgy, D’Artagnan.”
I laugh, but I have to ask, “I’m not, but is this your place?”
“Yeah?”
“Is this your stuff?” I glance at her, and I can see she doesn’t know why I’m asking. “This isn’t your stuff, right? None of this is yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I just expected more orange and, like, girlie shit,” I say, looking around at the dullness. I know she just moved here, but this stuff doesn’t seem right. “This place isn’t you.”
“It’s not mine. The company furnished it for me. I just haven’t had time to decorate or anything. Not that I want to. I hate everything in here.”
“Where is your stuff?”
“In my bedroom. I pushed it all in there, so I would look like I had my shit together somewhat.”
I perk my brow at her. “You didn’t have to. I don’t care about that.”
She kisses my jaw, her eyes so bright. “You’re too good to me. Your Vols shirt is in the room. Come on.”
She takes my hand, guiding me down a short hall. “If you’re bringing me back here to seduce me, the floor in the living room would have been fine.”
She snickers at that, lacing her fingers with mine as she pushes open the door. “It’s boring in here too.”
She isn’t kidding. I look at the queen bed. “That bed is small.”
“Compared to yours, yes, it is. So don’t be surprised when I stay at your house more. I love your bed,” she laughs as she walks to the bathroom door.
“You look fucking good in it,” I tell her as I glance around. She sure as hell doesn’t look good here. This place is more suited to a boring dude than someone like Tennessee. She brings the shirt to me, and I take it, still looking around. I pull off my white tee and throw it on with ease.
“What do you think?”
She leans down on the bed, her eyes trailing along my body as a sneaky grin pulls at her lips. “I’m thinking I wasn’t prepared to see that shirt on you, and now I’m regretting that my bed isn’t big.”
I lean down, my fingers brushing hers as our noses almost touch. “We’ve made it very clear we don’t need a bed.”
“You got that right,” she whispers, and I nip at her bottom lip. Her eyes drift shut, but then they open once more and she looks down at my hand. “What happened?” she asks, moving her fingers along my busted knuckles. “This looks new.”
I stopped to wash my hands free of blood. But I got that fucker pretty good, and two of my knuckles are split. As our eyes meet, I know that lying isn’t an option. That she deserves the truth. “That guy you thought you wanted to date asked me to let him have you back.”
Her brows come in, amusement taking over her features. “You’re kidding.”