Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Owwww. This is so not the time for my nipples to get hard again. I don’t know if the injured one can, but the other one is definitely reacting, and my stung nipple wants to follow suit.
“Sure. Yes, I’ll do that. I’m just going to go wipe down the car, and I’ll be back in ten. Do you want some water? Something else to drink? Is there anything I can get you?”
“I’m fine. The pain is pretty much gone. The ice worked wonders.”
“Okay. Good.” He sounds relieved.
He takes one step forward.
“Mont?” I call out. He freezes.
“Yes?”
“Maybe I do want some water,” I tell him.
“Alright.”
He doesn’t move, and I can’t seem to get my lungs working right to breathe. A sip of water would help my dry throat. “Mont?”
“I’ll go get it. Right now.”
But he still doesn’t move. Aside from getting walloped by a pervy hornet on the beach, this is a great top-up to an evening that has been pretty awful.
Has it?
Not really. Most people would probably think so, and I can’t say I’ve ever had a worse string of events happen to me on a date, but it’s been kind of nice, too. Minus the asshole hornet, minus most of Connor’s outbursts, and minus him and Gen leaving with each other. I hope she’s doing okay. I should text her. I should call her and tell her about my unfortunate injury. She’ll laugh and say these kinds of things could only happen to me. Then, I’ll laugh, too, and it’ll make me feel better.
Mont still hasn’t moved.
“Mont?” I call out again.
“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly mutters.
Arghhhkghgh, what? Like this? There’s no freaking way he’s talking to me. His words might be pushed ahead of him into the open space and directed at his kitchen, but there’s no one else in here that I’m aware of.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes. “That was the worst thing I could have said. You want to go home, and you’d just like a sip of water, and you’re in pain. And then there’s me, standing here, all can I kiss you like a creepy, insensitive arsehole. We just had the worst date ever, but I’m proving it can keep getting a few shades past the worst. I’m your boss, and bosses shouldn’t ask to kiss their employees. We’re not even faking anything anymore. And right now, you probably think I drove you here to put the pervy moves on you because I had ulterior motives like a boss, but not that kind of boss. I didn’t. Bring you here for that, I mean. I truly did want to make sure you were okay. I should be getting you water. I should be wiping down the saltwater in the car and checking for sand so you can be comfortable when I take you home. I should be acting, but instead, I’m just standing here and shooting my mouth off like a total dipshit. I’m never going to live this down.”
I shouldn’t laugh, but a high giggle bursts out of me. “You’re not going to live this down?”
He spins around but carefully keeps his eyes locked on mine. When he realizes I’m decent again, his eyes still don’t trail down or fixate anywhere except on my face, which is more than I can say for mine. I give him a once over that includes me fully appreciating his broad chest, his muscular arms peeking out of his T-shirt sleeves, his jeans from the front, the bulge in them, and—
The bulge in them.
I quickly drag my eyes back up, but not on his because he’ll know I just realized there’s most certainly a bulge in his pants, right there behind his fly. He’ll know it’s the reason my face is getting red, and he’ll know I totally just checked him out and—
I think I could pass out for real right now from lack of oxygen and the primal cavewoman stuff that is going on in my body.
I want to leap off this couch, say fuck the ice ball, throw my arms around his neck, climb him and straddle him, and kiss the living daylights out of him. I want to tell him that he tastes like spearmint gum from the beach, like salt, like the beach, like all the wonderful things. Not like crab. The crab test will be passed, just as I promised. I want to ask him if I taste like the beach and spearmint gum. I want him to say he isn’t sure and that he needs another taste, and then I want him to stick his tongue down my throat. I want to make out with him in the hottest way. I want him to throw me down on top of that island, push my dress up, and make me forget about the pain that might start coming back to my nipple when it thaws out.