Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
She shakes her head, her green eyes fixed on mine, an exasperated look on her face. “Why are you so insistent on trying to help me?”
“Like I said, where I’m from, we help out when and where we can.”
That’s a big part of it, but if I’m being honest, it’s more than that. Way more. I want her to see me. I want to spend more time with her because something about this girl intrigues me. Her wide, doe eyes and the way she’s biting her lower lip give her an almost innocent look that drives me wild, has me firing on all synapses.
It's not just a sexual attraction I feel right now—though I won't lie, she's sexy as hell and I would love to see that curvy figure naked, explore her body, and memorize every curve and dip. But there's more to it than that too.
My reaction to her is primal, sure, but something else burrows under my skin. I don’t know what it is exactly because honestly, I’ve never felt anything remotely like this before. I’ve never looked at someone and gotten assaulted by visions of a future…with them.
Fuck me. I’m starting to act like a creep.
For now, I want to help her. I want to get her somewhere safe and well away from this guy who’s making her uncomfortable. It’s not just for her own good, it’s for his too. If I ever see him try to make a move, I can’t promise anything less than broken bones.
“Okay.” She finally nods. “I’m warning you right now though, I’ve got a can of mace.”
“Noted. Now, let’s go before that guy gets wise to you being out here, and I have to beat him to a pulp. I’d rather not go to jail tonight if I can help it.”
She laughs and it transforms her face, making her look even more beautiful than she already is…which I didn’t think was possible. But her laughter makes the air between us feel lighter. It’s like she stuck a pin in the balloon of tension and popped it. Maybe not entirely, but enough. I mean, I’m still sporting a half-chub.
“I’m just parked down the street.”
“Okay.”
We walk down the street in silence, and as I open the back door of my Navigator for her to climb into the back seat as promised, she pauses and turns to me. “Thank you.”
My chest cracks open at the way she stares. “You’re welcome.”
2
DEVON
“So, where are we headed?” he asks as he pulls away from the curb.
“UCLA,” I tell him. “Hedrick Hall.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as he types the location into his phone.
Sitting in the back of his SUV, I’ve got my hand tucked into my bag, my fingers curled around the can of mace I’ve got inside. I don’t think I’m going to need it, though. It’s just a feeling and god knows I’ve been wrong about people before—tonight is proof enough of that—but this guy doesn’t set off a single alarm bell. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. There’s something about him that’s touched off some very different, very unexpected, and very intense feelings in me.
And by intense, I mean cinching-my-thighs kind of intense.
I don’t have a lot of experience with men. Okay, I’ve got no real experience with men. I’m a virgin. It’s not because I’m the waiting-for-marriage type. It’s because I know my worth and don’t want to jump in bed with anyone just because. But…something about this man is making me feel warm all over and has my core clenching with…need.
God, what’s with me?
It’s inexplicable and totally unexpected. He’s hot and ruggedly handsome, that’s pretty obvious, but he’s not even touching me and I already feel something zapping down my spine. No man I’ve ever met has ever gotten me wet like this, but I can't deny that my panties are soaked right now, and I'm hoping I don’t leave a wet spot on his leather upholstery. Talk about humiliating.
He glances at me in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes sending another jolt of lust surging through me. I swallow hard and shift uncomfortably in my seat. As I study his strong jawline, studded with salt and pepper stubble, and his sharp, angular profile, I realize there’s something familiar about the man. I narrow my eyes and scrutinize him, trying to figure out where I know him from. He’s not a big-time movie star or rock god or anything like that, but I know I know him.
“Why do I feel like I know you?” I finally ask.
His soft chuckle is a deep rumbling that passes through me deliciously, somehow making me even wetter than I already am. I lick my suddenly dry lips and try to slow my racing heart.
“I don’t know,” he says in that deep timber that makes me quiver. “Why do you think that?”