Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
She’ll definitely want a better grip than that once we get going, but I don’t say anything.
“It’s the end of whale season, I believe. Hold on and we’ll find them.” I hit the gas.
The ATV lurches forward with a droning roar.
“Oh! Oh my God!”
There’s a panicked flurry of small hands around my shoulders.
The space between us disappears.
Then she presses her body against my back for dear life. Her arms hug my chest, little nails digging into my shirt.
Even when she’s almost drawing blood, it makes me harder than a brick.
There’s something wrong with me.
It’s a bumpy ride to the ranch, but that’s not why it’s a special kind of exquisite torture.
Her hands brush my skin.
Her breath falls against my neck in hot sighs.
Her body fucking trembles against mine.
I’d have an easier time escaping a pit of scorpions than the thousand scalding images of all the other ways I wish I could make her shake.
By the time we’re pulling up the dusty road and a grinning guy with a dark tan approaches, we’re damn near molten, her hot little body snug against mine.
Her breath comes so shallow, giving her tits this delectable friction I can’t stand.
Even the balmy heat does nothing to stifle the instant cold when we climb off and pull apart.
She won’t look at me.
It takes at least a solid minute for the redness on her cheeks to fade.
When my phone vibrates against my hand, I’m thankful for the distraction as we walk toward the horses. I glance at it, making sure Keenan’s New York nightmare is still under control.
“Do you ever take a break?” she asks, finally looking at me.
“Can’t right now. Not all of us make our living filming exotic birds.”
She huffs. “But what would happen if you did turn your phone off for a few hours? One evening? The resort won’t burn down. I promise.”
I throw her a slow look.
Then again, when the hell was the last time I enjoyed Lanai and it wasn’t all business? I mute my phone.
She’s still wearing the same enchanted look on her face she’s had since yesterday with the sand angels. The one that reminds me of an awestruck girl on her first trip to Disneyland.
A hollow feeling rips through me.
Was travel like that for me when I was a boy? Before everything became work?
As the day goes on with our slow, bobbing horseback ride over the ocean cliffs, one thing becomes increasingly clear.
Piper Renee is my exact opposite.
She’s a ray of sunshine, lighter than anything else in this world—especially when she starts singing obnoxiously loud on an isolated stretch of coastal road.
I pretend it annoys me to death.
Honestly, broken chords of “Walking on Sunshine” make my ears bleed, but when I tune her out, her beauty eviscerates me.
Another sight I don’t need.
Another feeling I don’t have time for.
Another temptation to keep eye-fucking this pretty girl.
I’m starting to get why I’ve been single for so long.
This could have been a productive day. Instead, I’m spending it as a glorified chaperone to a woman who doesn’t know she’s turning my balls into softball-sized blueberries.
It’s only temporary, I remind myself, breathing slowly as she belts out another broken tune.
She doesn’t stop until I grit my teeth and dagger her with a dirty look.
What the hell is this?
A mammoth clusterfuck, apparently.
An illusion of a date with a pretty girl who doesn’t know I’m a chronic liar.
Fuck, it’s an anti-date.
Winthrope International has real problems I need to deal with that go way beyond apocalyptic reviews.
Yet here I am, stuck with this sun pixie with my phone switched off, trying like hell to pretend I have a life.
She can get brunch from any restaurant she wants at Winthrope tomorrow, so tonight I decide to wow her.
We drive across the island to a restaurant so exclusive the waitlist for reservations is usually six months deep, but the managers know who I am.
The rare flex of my name scores us a private booth as a courtesy.
Piper sips her wine, her strawberry mouth taking in the burgundy sweetness.
Focus on her eyes, damn you, I remind myself.
“Tell me your favorite part of the day,” I say, swirling my own wine and looking down.
Anything that keeps my dick from ripping through my trousers.
“Do I have to pick one? I don’t know... Everything here is so beautiful. The cliffs, the little craft shops in Lanai City—oh, and that humpback whale! I’ve seen orcas plenty of times but the humpbacks are harder to catch back home. It was so cool when he breached.”
I love the whimsical glow on her face.
“Good. Sounds like a welcome break before you go back to—” Damn. I realize I’m about to ask a question I dread. “Where did you say you’re from in Washington?”
“Seattle.”
Shit.
There it is.
“We’re basically neighbors,” I say flatly.
I have no fucking clue why my cheeks hurt, fighting down a smile and a grimace simultaneously.