Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Nothing. Nothing.” I wave my hands, the pie bag spinning around my fingers. “I said do you need a plate?”
She squints. “For the pie?”
I nod vigorously. “Yeah, the pie. Do you need a plate? We could stop somewhere and pick some up. Like a store. Or my condo. I have plates in my condo.”
Jesus, fuck, I sound like a goddamned idiot. I slam my lips shut and commence walking again. One thing I learned in boxing is that everyone has a strength. Some people have quick feet. Some people are good punchers. You gotta play to that strength in order to win. The thing is, though, I’m a sad sack of shit when it comes to dating. I’ve never really dated my entire life. I haven’t wanted to. Women that are attracted to me are a distraction, a nuisance. They’re always up in my business, wanting sex, wanting money, wanting attention. I don’t have time for that. And now, fuck, it’s not like I regret not dating, but if I had dated a little bit, maybe I would know what to do here. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like I have two left feet and bear paws instead of hands.
“I can eat the pie from the box. I don’t mind.” She takes the pie bag from me and smiles.
I melt into a puddle of goo at her feet.
“This is my dorm.” She waves a hand behind her.
“So close.” I blow out a frustrated breath.
She cocks her head. “What was that?”
“I said my voice is hoarse.” I slap my neck. “I was throat punched the other day and the cold air is making it ache.”
“Oh my goodness. That’s awful.” Her hand reaches up and brushes across my skin.
My cock turns rock hard in an instant and unintelligible sounds climb up my throat.
“Wow. You sound terrible. Maybe you should come inside and I can make you some honey water. I know singers sometimes drink that before concerts.”
I’m so stunned I can’t form words. She wants me to come up to her dorm room and make me something to drink? My mind shuts down in excitement and all I can do is nod eagerly. I hold the door open while she walks into the dorm complex. The lights are on in the entryway and there’s a sleepy-eyed student sitting at a desk.
“No guys after ten,” she snaps.
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Erika shrinks against me.
My arm comes up automatically, like it has a mind of its own, and curves around her shoulder. I straighten to my full height and face the girl at the desk. “You didn’t have to shout at her. She didn’t know.”
The girl’s head comes up, but whatever she is about to say melts on her tongue. Her jaw drops and her eyes grow big. I sigh inside. Not again. I know this look. I hate it. It’s the one that’s always followed by “What’s your number?” and “You look like a whole daddy,” whatever the hell that means.
“Come on, Erika. I live in the condo complex across the street. You can make me something to drink there.”
“No. Please. You can stay. Really.” The girl hops off her stool. “You need something to drink. I have a whole mini-fridge—”
But I have Erika out the door before the clerk finishes her sentence.
“I think that girl wanted to give you her number,” Erika says as I’m hustling her down the sidewalk.
“Nah. She probably has some pyramid scheme quota she has to fill and collects numbers for that.”
“She was offering her whole mini-fridge to you. For a college student, that’s like handing over your bank account.”
“I’m not interested”—I clear my throat—“in her. I’m not interested in her. I have my own refrigerator. And it’s full-sized. Packed full, too.”
Erika’s little mouth quirks up on the sides. “Full-sized? Packed full?” she repeats. Her lips quiver as she tries to suppress her laughter.
A reluctant grin spreads across my face as the implication of my words set in. It’s her cheeky smile that shuts down my brain again so that I don’t have the sense to stop the next question. Instead, blinded by her happiness, my mouth opens and I blurt out, “Yeah, are you interested?”
CHAPTER 4
ERIKA
I stroll next to Tank, letting my arm brush against his, wishing it was wrapped around me again. I still can’t believe I agreed to go back to his place. I reach up and pull my hair from its messy bun, letting it fall all around me. I bite my lip to keep from smiling when I hear Tank suck in a deep breath. That makes me feel even sexier. I’ve never used the word “sexy” to describe myself before today. Tank just made me realize I had it in me.
Cute? Sure. Maybe even pretty. I always felt my small size made me more boyish. The boys usually look past me to the girls who look just like the one that Tank dismissed. Though Tank is no boy in any shape or form. He’s all man from what I’ve seen of him.