Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
While Mason was humming the Wedding March, I was planning my future. And it looks exactly like the pretty little redhead standing in front of me right now. She's mine. Not even karma, Henry Cavill, or the tabloids are going to stand in my way.
Chapter Two
Ireland
An hour after Soul Obsession finishes their rehearsal, I'm pacing holes in the carpet in my hotel room while Brielle watches, trying her best not to laugh at me. Shelby is dealing with some last-minute travel snafu for the next stop. And I am stressed.
I thought I'd have to wheedle my way into Crue Blake's good graces before he agreed to an interview. Instead, he just freaking appeared in front of me like some hot rock god and offered. This is not how my day was supposed to go.
I'm looking a gift interview in the mouth, but I can't help it. I've had a crush on him since I was a kid. His posters used to hang on my wall. When they went on hiatus ten years ago, my little heart was broken. I'd never even gotten to see them in concert.
Now, they're back together, and I'm here, living out every fangirl's dream.
And Crue Freaking Blake wants to talk to me. Unless I'm completely wrong and the monster in his pants just does that all the time, I think he may want to do more than that.
Stress? Don't know her. I am her.
Not that it matters. He'll change his mind as soon as he realizes I'm still clinging to my V-Card. A casual hookup on tour is one thing. They probably do it all the time. But getting entangled with a virgin who hasn't even been kissed? That's a whole different ballgame. One I'm sure he'll tag himself out of as soon as I spill the messy beans. If we even get that far.
I mean, maybe he calls everyone baby and steals their phones.
Right. And maybe he's just egomaniacal and that's why he changed the background on mine to a picture of him.
Ha. Crue is a lot of things, but he's never been full of himself.
"I should change," I mumble. My emerald-green skater dress makes my eyes pop. And my boobs look fantastic in it, but I should at least project the appearance of a professional for this interview, right? Right. The dress, while adorable, doesn't scream, 'I'm a professional baddie.'
"Don't you dare," Brielle says. "You look beautiful."
"I look like a college kid."
"Uh, two months ago, you were in college." She eyes me like I'm crazy. "You graduated with honors, Ireland. And you just finished an internship for one of the biggest music publications in the United States. You weren't in a boring suit when you did any of that."
She has a point. But I wasn't interviewing the hottest freaking man alive when I did any of that, either. So…she has a moot point. I twirl on my heel, heading for the suitcase I dragged onto the second bed in my room earlier. I don't even know why hotels have closets. Anyone who has time to unpack and repack on vacation is not living their best life.
I barely make it two steps when my phone rings.
My heart instantly slams against my ribcage.
For a split second, I consider not answering. I don't know why! Panic pumps through my veins instead of blood and it seems like a reasonable thing to do. But then I remember how much I want this interview…and how much I liked it when he smiled at me. And I yank my phone out of my pocket like I'm in a race.
"Hello?"
"Ireland." My name rolls off his tongue like the notes of a seductive song. "Where are you, sweet girl?"
Sweet girl. Oh, he's way good at this charming rockstar thing. Way too good.
"My hotel," I say. "Where are you?"
"Probably down the hall from you." The smile in his voice makes my stomach flutter. "Where do you want me? Your room or mine?"
Stretched naked across a bed, please.
I glance around my tiny room. My clothes are strewn over the back of the chair. My toiletries litter the top of the desk. An empty Starbucks cup sits beside the mini-fridge. It's a hot damn mess.
"Yours. Definitely yours," I hurry to say. There's no way he's stepping foot in here with it looking like a tornado blew through. My panties are out and everything! "You aren't allowed to see my room yet."
"Yet?"
"That's not what I said," I lie.
His wicked laugh rolls down the line, turning my nipples to hard points. "I'm going to let you pretend that isn't what you said for now," he chuckles. "Top floor, room 3811. See you in five."
"Wait. I—"
He disconnects before I can tell him I need to change.
I pull the phone away from my ear, huffing, "He's bossy." Except I say it with a smile so it doesn't sound nearly as annoyed as it should.