Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Huh? Who’s Barry?”
“My dog.”
“Who’s Harry?”
“My neighbor who is actually not named Harry, but it’s fun to call him Harry.”
“I’m so confused right now,” some random girl calls from the stall on the other side of me.
“That makes two of us,” calls Leonie.
I giggle. “Is anyone else’s stall spinning?” I ask.
“Yes,” everyone cries in unison.
I hug the girls goodbye and totter to the front door and call an Uber as the ground moves beneath me.
Oh man . . .
The car pulls up. “Thank you.” I open the door and put one leg out and then the other.
How the hell did I get so tipsy?
The cul-de-sac is quiet, not a peep to be heard. I look up at Henley’s house, and I smile. I imagine going inside and surprising him with my very own peep show.
“You have a good night,” I tell the Uber driver.
“You too.”
“Don’t pick up any drunk and disorderly people,” I tell him. “There are some real troublemakers out there.”
He smiles. “Are you all right to get out on your own?”
Boy, I’m so tipsy.
“I am. Thank you for driving me home.” I smile goofily. “I had fun.”
“This isn’t a fucking date, Juliet,” Henley’s voice growls.
Huh?
He grabs my arm and pulls me from the car, and I come face to face with Mr. Holy Hotness himself.
“Oh.” How convenient. “It’s you.”
Chapter 5
Henley
“Go inside and control your mutt.”
Juliet smiles up at me all sexy-like. “Stop saying mutt like that.”
I twist my lips. “I’ll say muttt”—I accentuate the T—“any way I want to.”
“Hmm.” She smiles. “Always so bossy, Mr. James.”
You have no idea.
She sways on her feet. She’s really quite inebriated. “You’re drunk.”
“Am I?”
“Do you make a habit of offering yourself to seedy Uber drivers?”
She giggles and turns toward her house. She bends and slips her stilettos off. I watch her ass in that dress as she does. “Are you jealous, Henley?”
As fuck.
“Go inside,” I warn her.
“Or what?” she teases.
Get bent over your letterbox, that’s what.
“Don’t play with me, Juliet.”
She turns back toward me and smiles sexily as she bites her bottom lip. Our eyes are locked, and she walks back to me. We come face to face.
Her perfume surrounds me. My cock twitches in appreciation at her close proximity.
Don’t even think about it.
“Henley,” she whispers.
My eyes drop to her lips. “Yes.”
“If I was playing with you, I would tell you something sordid.”
“Such as?”
The air crackles between us.
She leans in close and puts her mouth to my ear. “I haven’t had sex in eight months,” she breathes.
I inhale sharply. Damn it, tell me anything but that.
Throb, throb, throb . . .
I hear the blood rushing from all over my body to fill my cock.
This isn’t good. Abort mission.
I get a vision of her riding me, good and deep, her perfect tits bouncing as they do. Eight months to catch up on. She’d be fucking fire.
She’s an adultering witch, remember?
Stop it.
I step back from her. “You should probably tell someone who cares. Do you want me to call the Uber driver back?”
She smirks. “Maybe I do.”
“Get inside.” I point to her house.
Before I do unspeakable things to you . . . or murder an overhelpful Uber driver.
“So bossy, Mr. James.”
“You have no idea.”
Her eyes hold mine, and I know she’s imagining the exact same thing as me.
Fuck.
Why is she so hot?
Last time we had sex, she changed my fucking DNA. There is no way in hell I’m doing that again.
“Go inside,” I demand.
She smiles up at me all sexy-like, and damn it, I just want to kiss her.
“Go inside right now, Juliet,” I growl as I struggle with the last inch of control. “And shut your fucking dog up.”
She shrugs. “Okay.” She turns and walks into her house and gives me a wave with her fingertips before closing the door.
I stare at the door. My cock is rock hard, and fuck’s sake, I do not need this temptation living right next fucking door.
I march into my house and up to the bedroom. I open my side drawer and take out the lube.
A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
Juliet
The sun is shining, and I am weeding the garden next to my front steps. The perfect Saturday afternoon.
Time to focus.
No more thinking about the world’s biggest prick. I’ve been overanalyzing everything. He’s been so rude this week, hasn’t even waved in the mornings when he drove past. In fact, he glares at me as if I am his mortal enemy.
I’m living in a world of regret for possibly being flirty last weekend, although I’m not entirely sure. I think I told him I haven’t had sex for a long time, or maybe it was a nightmare. Either way, I’m never drinking again.
He hates me, which is fine with me, because I hate him more.
I’m going to concentrate on the important things, like renovating my house.