Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Just then, Vance rolled over, threw his arm over my stomach, and proceeded to dry hump my leg—in his sleep—I took a breath.
Don’t make it weird, Blake. Just don’t make it weird…
Chapter Seventeen
VANCE
In order to keep things from being weird, I booked a different hotel.
Morning sunlight spilled across the foot of the bed as I stared at the text message. The text message she’d sent at three in the morning that absolutely made shit weird. Why on God’s half-green Earth would I have expected anything less from Blake Brentley?
I’d given her what appeared to have been a mind-blowing orgasm—I had the scratches and bruises and blood-crusted nose as verification—and then she’d packed her disastrous suitcase, snuck out, and booked another hotel in the middle of the night?
You realize this makes it extra weird, you weirdo?
You realize it’s not nice to call people names?
Just like it’s not nice to bail on a guy who ate your pussy like it was beef lo mein.
The little dots letting me know she was typing danced across the screen, then stopped for a few seconds before starting again.
First of all, cunnilingus is not an appropriate discussion via text. Secondly, nothing about beef lo mein is sexy.
And before you say it, yes, I realize we have to be at the airport in three hours to catch the flight to Rome.
I had a message halfway typed out, telling her not to be late, when she texted again.
And no. I will not be late. I’m already walking toward the train station.
Not only was Blake aware of what time we were supposed to be there, but she, the woman who was perpetually late, had left three hours early? Yeah, she was absolutely avoiding me. And I was going to call her on it.
You’re avoiding me…
No, I’m actually punctual to things that matter. Like flights.
Bullshit.
Who was on the flight to Paris first? And who’s going to be first on the flight to Rome?
Like it was a competition. Of course, maybe it was to the girl who had raced me up the stairs.
You infuriate me.
I give that word 3.5 stars out of 5. I would have gone with exasperate.
I chucked my phone to the bed and stood up. Exasperate wasn’t any better of a word than infuriate. Fuck my life. She was rubbing off on me.
Halfway across the room, I noticed Blake’s passport on the floor and picked it up. If I’d wanted to be nice, I could have texted Blake and told her, and maybe I would have had she not been so cocky about getting to the airport before me. Instead, I flipped to the identification page.
Blake Leigh Brentley.
Her name rhymed? Who in the hell would give their kid a name that rhymed? The same person who would rank her kids with a magnet board.
Shaking my head, I dropped her passport on the dresser beside mine, then went to the bathroom and turned on the water. As steam built behind the glass shower wall, I imagined Blake standing in the security line, frantically digging through her disorganized purse, then her carry-on. Gum wrappers and receipts would be scattered everywhere. Usually, just the thought of that much disorganization would make my skin crawl, but I couldn’t help but think of her and the chaos that surrounded her with fondness. I found her ridiculous obsession with words and the way her nose crinkled when she laughed annoyingly charming. I’d even developed a fondness for her bouts of word vomit, even though they typically ended in complete disaster. And after last night, I could say I really enjoyed those little breathy moans she made right before she came.
My dick swelled at the thought of those sounds, of the way her hips bucked as she chased her release.
I got undressed and stepped underneath the hot stream, fisting my cock as I imagined what it would have felt like to have buried myself balls-deep in her last night. How her pussy would have gripped me like a vise when she came.
My free hand landed on the tile, steadying me as I pumped myself with determined strokes. A few more jerks to the thought of her warm pussy wrapped around me and my balls tightened. Heat spread over me like an inferno.
I dropped my head to the cool shower wall on a grunt as a ribbon of come hit the tile. “Fuck,” I groaned at the same time that the bathroom door flung open, interrupting my orgasm.
“Oh, my God!” Blake’s gaze landed on my dick right as the last dribble of come trickled from its tip. The trajectory of her widened eyes shot to my face before she slapped a hand over them. “Were you jerking off?” Said like it was a capital offense.
“You said you were on your way to the train station!”
“What does that have to do with you jerking off?” She turned around, eyes still closed as she blindly felt around for the sink.