Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Finding my mug filled almost to the brim, I scoop it up and lift it to my lips, taking a desperate sip and hoping the deliciousness can somehow make this conversation easier. Then, taking my mug with me, I make my way back around to the other side of the island counter, pulling out a stool and taking a seat, doing everything in my power to avoid his stare. “So, this whole shared bedroom wall thing,” I state. “I thought we covered that earlier in the hallway.”
“We did,” he says, clearing his throat as though the topic alone has the walls of his throat closing in on him. “But after you took off thinking you achieved something, it occurred to me that I’ve had my own place for years, so you could have only been referring to the times I stayed here in college.”
I avert my gaze, feeling the awkwardness beginning to creep up, threatening to swallow me whole. “Uh-huh.”
“I finished college at twenty-two, Aspen.”
I lift my mug, half hiding my face with it, still unable to meet his eye. “Yep.”
“You were barely sixteen.”
I scoff, arching a brow and finally glancing up. “And to think, you were a high school junior when I first started hearing things through the wall.”
His expression changes, and the color quickly drains from his face. “Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, gripping the edge of the counter and hanging his head. “You were a fucking kid.”
I nod. “I would have been around ten the first time I heard you, but it wasn’t until I was maybe thirteen or fourteen that I actually understood what was going on in there.”
“Shit, Aspen. I’m sorry,” he tells me with a cringe. “If I knew you could hear all of that shit, I never would have—”
“Don’t” I say, cutting him off again. “Don’t start beating yourself up over it. It’s not a big deal. Besides, by the time I was older and more aware of . . . myself, you were away at college. So it’s not like I was . . . you know, not like last night.”
Izaac gives me a hard stare, his brow arching as if knowing damn well I’m talking shit. “Austin and I had a fuckload of wild parties here during our college days, Aspen. Just because I was away at college, didn’t mean I wasn’t staying in that room just as much as I always did.”
Lifting my mug to my lips, I glance away again, trying not to grin. “Yep.”
During his college days, I used to love when he came home. Even if it meant he was screwing some random girl, it still meant that I got the slightest window into what it would be like to be with him, and I fucking loved it. But I’m not about to admit that to him.
No wonder I’ve struggled to get over him. When it comes to sex, I’ve always associated it with Izaac.
“FUCK!”
Izaac grips the counter again, his knuckles turning white, but all I can do is silently laugh, smothering my hand over my lips.
His gaze snaps up, looking at me in horror. “Are you seriously laughing at this? I was unknowingly corrupting you as a kid.”
“Cool your jets, Izaac. It’s not like I had a secret glory hole in the wall and was using it to watch you fuck your way through the female population. Though, one thing is for sure, when you’ve been drinking, that stamina of yours . . .” I make a whistling sound, starting high and getting lower with every passing second, and just for good measure, I make an arc with my finger, starting up by my head and finishing way down past the counter.
Izaac scoffs, amusement flashing in those dark eyes that have always held me captive. He presses his elbows on the counter and leans in, bringing himself a shitload closer and holding my gaze. “If you’ve really been listening through the wall as intently as you say you have, then you know damn well that’s not true. I fuck like a god, Aspen.”
I swallow hard, my heart racing a million miles an hour as my core clenches. I’ve heard him through the wall more than enough to know he likes to take his time. He fucks a woman until she can’t possibly take it anymore, no matter how intoxicated he might be. There’s no denying it, Izaac Banks certainly does fuck like a god. Just like the perfect stranger from Vixen. Now, if Izaac were to fuck me the way my perfect stranger did . . . Good God! I’d be ruined forever.
A shiver sails down my spine, but all I can do is stare back at him, hunger pooling deep in my core.
I need to get a grip.
His gaze darkens as if knowing the effect he has on me, and when his lips kick up into a wicked smirk, he pulls away. He’s so fucking smug. It’s as though making me sweat has just become his new favorite game, and for the most part, I’m so here for it. Only this is one game I don’t think either of us will win.