Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Hello, Bridget,” a familiar voice sounds from behind me.
I turn in a rush and then step back in shock.
Dear God…
The blood drains from my face.
“Ben?” I whisper. He towers over everyone around him and, as if my body recognizes the strength he holds, I immediately weaken.
I stare at him for a moment, trying to register what I’m seeing, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest. “Ben?” I say again with a frown before I shake my head. Well, blow me down. “What…” I have no words. “What are you doing here?”
His gaze moves down my body. “I’m here for you.”
I frown. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I raise my eyebrows. Is he fucking kidding me? “You came all the way to Sydney to see me?” I ask sarcastically. Funny that, because the dipshit hasn’t even called me in five years.
I glance over at my group of friends and fold my arms in front of me defensively. “You needn’t have bothered,” I snap.
He smiles sexily, and I narrow my eyes. Don’t get fucking cute now, asshole.
I’m so over you.
“When I got the invite to come here, the first thing I asked was ‘is Bridget going?’ I wanted to catch up and see how you’re doing. It’s been a long time.” His eyes drop to my lips, and it makes me uncomfortable. Don’t look at me like that.
My eyes widen with horror. “Y-you’re coming to the wedding?” I stammer.
He raises an eyebrow. “I flew in this morning especially for it.” He glances over to our table. “I’m here with Stan, Cam, and Murph. A reunion, so to speak.”
I stare at him as my brain tries to keep up.
Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m introducing my new boyfriend to everyone this weekend. I don’t need my long-lost asshole ex thrown into the mix.
Damn it.
This is so fucking typical.
Shit.
I lift my chin defiantly. “You should have checked with me first to see if that was okay.”
My eyes roam over his broad chest beneath his black T-shirt, and then I find myself glancing down to his faded blue jeans that fit snugly in all the right places. His strong forearms are screaming for more focused attention, but I refuse to give in, and I quickly snap my eyes away.
Why does he have to be so gorgeous? It’s annoying. Surely, he should be bald, fat, and ugly by now.
He smiles cheekily. “And is it?”
I frown. “Is it what?”
“Is it okay that I’m here?” he asks sarcastically.
“No.” I flick my hair over my shoulder in annoyance. “Actually, it’s not. You should crawl back under the rock you came from.”
He smirks and gives me that cheeky look he’s perfected so well.
I begin to perspire as I look around at my surroundings.
Don’t start with your being hot now. I exhale in annoyance because I don’t need this crap. I glance down at my jeans and my off–the-shoulder flowy cream top. Why didn’t I wear something sexier tonight? I knew I should have worn the red dress.
I internally kick myself. Stop it!
Who cares what you’re wearing? Ben is an asshole, you have a boyfriend, and this is a fucking disaster.
His dark eyes return to focus on my lips, and I feel the nerves in the pit of my stomach start to simmer.
Oh, I remember that look.
“What will it be?” the bartender asks.
I lean over the bar. “Can I have three margaritas, please?” I smile. It’s the cute bartender serving—the one we often see here.
He winks with a friendly smile and turns to make our drinks.
Ben shuffles around and then stands directly behind me. Close… too close… and I feel his hard body fit snugly up against mine. He’s warm and hard.
I close my eyes as my body starts to thump.
It’s just a tight space, that’s all. He’ll move in a minute, I tell myself.
Why does his body radiate so much power?
Somebody pushes us from behind. His hand drops to my hip as his body pushes up against mine with force.
I stand up from my leaning position in a rush.
“Whoa, baby,” he whispers in my ear from behind. His body is snug up against mine and his hand is still firmly on my hip, his lips at my ear.
“Ben,” I announce as I look straight ahead to the bar. “Get your hand off my hip and your lips away from my ear before I glass you.”
He chuckles, and I feel his breath dust my neck. “You’ve still got that snarky sense of humor, I see.”
I want to reply, and you’ve still got that big beautiful dick, I bet, but I stop myself.
He moves closer and his lips brush my ear again. “It’s good to see you, Bridget. You feel so good pressed against me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Christ Almighty.
That’s it.
I pull away from him in a rush. “Listen, Ben. You don’t get to touch me anymore. In fact, you don’t even get to talk to me.”