Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I vaguely hear the growing excitement from the living room as the countdown begins. Terrence strokes his fingers through my hair and then curls his large hand around the side of my neck. I can’t seem to understand why my body’s not going haywire from his touch or his nearness. All I know is it’s going crazy with new sensations.
Need.
Fiery want.
Explosive heat.
His dark eyes lock on mine, intent and promise gleaming in them. He drops his stare to my lips and then uses his thumb to gently drag across the bottom one.
“I’m gonna kiss you, Penny.” He smirks and lifts a brow. “What do you think about that?”
The countdown has begun, and my heart seems to thump in cadence with each passing second.
“I need words,” he rumbles. “I need you to want it too. I need—”
“Stop talking,” I bite out as I stand on my toes, bringing my face close to his.
His eyes flash with heat and then his lips brush against mine, gently at first. So soft I wonder if I imagined it. Then, his palm is clutching the back of my neck, drawing me closer so he can claim me. My lips part on a sigh, allowing him access to my mouth. The second his tongue swipes across mine, my kneejerk reaction is to recoil.
But then he groans—manly and feral and starved. It’s a sound I really, really like. I lose myself to the hungry sound as he devours me with a kiss. All I can do is clutch onto his tight shirt, pulling him closer so he can kiss me deeper.
His tongue. His teeth. His lips.
They’re all over mine, tasting and exploring and owning.
I’ve never felt so consumed in all my life.
People are yelling “Happy New Year,” but I can’t even be bothered by it because I’m frozen in this moment with Terrence James.
Sadly, he pulls away, ending our kiss.
Everything assaults me all at once. The cheers. The music. The obnoxious beating of my heart. Too much.
Terrence’s features twist from sated to concerned.
I don’t like it.
He reaches for me and I hiss.
“D-Don’t touch me!”
His jaw clenches. “Do you have your white noise? Turn it on, Penny. Do it now.”
I gape at him in horror. How does he know I need it to keep from losing my shit? Shame burns at my eyes and has my chest tightening.
Fumbling with my phone, I turn on the sound, blasting my eardrums with it. My hands tremble, and based on the worried glint in Terrence’s eyes, I can tell he wants to help.
He can’t help.
No one can.
“I need to leave,” I snap, hating how awful I sound right now.
I don’t want to leave.
I want to kiss him again and again and again.
I want to tell him my first kiss was perfect.
Instead, I storm out of the kitchen, grab my leather jacket and keys, and bolt out of the apartment without so much as a goodbye to anyone.
Why can’t I just be normal?
“What about this shop?” Mom asks, pointing to a thrift store.
I nod absently. So much has changed since we moved from Vermont. At one time, we would’ve shopped only at the mall, not some quaint Main Street thrift shop. Back when we lived with Dad, halfway across the US, we were rich and frankly kind of snotty. But Dad lost his shit when Hollis came out gay, and we later learned Dad was having an affair. Mom picked up and moved us all the way here to Hood River, Oregon. Middle of fucking nowhere. It’s all good, though, because we found friends, and both my siblings found love.
As soon as we walk inside, I decide I like the place. It’s quiet and jammed with clothes. Mom takes off toward the career section to look for work clothes. Charlotte and I head in opposite directions as well. Charlotte’s going through a black phase right now. I can’t help but think it’s because of what happened with Ryan and Michael. But, despite what those evil fuckers did to my sister, she’s still happy and here with us.
She just likes to wear more black now.
I suppose I’m fine with that so long as we don’t lose her to drugs and depression. I’m not the best sister, emotionally, but I need my siblings to be happy and safe.
The racks I head toward are the screen-print tees. I love finding random shirts that make no sense and make people frown. Some are cheesy or too happy. I find one that says “Buicks are for Bitches.” I don’t know what it means, but it makes me smile and it’s only three dollars, so I grab it. There’s a T-shirt with a gigantic thumbs-up that says, “Cool story, bro.” I’m about to add that one to my pile when Charlotte steals it.
“I need this,” she sasses.
Shaking my head, I relinquish the shirt and discover one with a Garbage Pail Kid on it. It’s a redheaded cartoon kid whose name is “Cracked Craig.” It reminds me of Terrence, so I snag it to wear for the next time I see him.