Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
"I thought you left," I murmur, waiting for my heart to stop thumping so hard in my chest. With Callan so close by, I’m thinking that’s a pipe dream.
"Nope, I was just making arrangements to get your car towed into a garage in the morning to get it fixed," Callan says with a smile.
"You didn't have to do that!" I tell him. I'm shocked he thought about it. "My dad would've helped me get it squared away."
"No need. The garage owner is a friend of mine, and he'll make sure it’s safe to drive."
"Oh, thank you," I say. "I guess it's good I'm off tomorrow since I don't have a vehicle."
"You were going to sleep in, remember?"
"Oh yeah, that's true."
He walks closer to me, and my heart starts to beat wildly in my chest as I look up at him.
"I'm going to ask you for that favor," Callan tells me with a crooked smile. My breath catches as I look into his eyes.
"What’s that?" I ask. My brain-to-mouth connection seems to be on the fritz, and those are the only words I can get out.
"I find that I really want to hold you while you fall asleep," he says, holding up his hand so I don't argue. "I want to hold you close, but I promise to leave quietly. I'll lock up, and I won't bother you. I just really want more time with you."
Part of me is jumping up and down because I don't want him to leave. I want to be in his arms, but I know I should make him leave. I’m not this kind of girl. I don’t let men I’ve barely spent time with lie in my bed—for any reason. Still, the temptation is so huge that it’s a struggle to come to a decision.
"Please," Callan says softly. “See, Zoe? I’m not above begging you. You should know please is not a word that comes easily for me."
I can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. "I definitely believe it." He laughs, and I notice how his smile softens his face and causes these little lines to crinkle around his eyes. God, he’s just so… perfect.
"Whose shirt are you wearing?" he asks. Suddenly, the playfulness in his voice disappears. The change is so quick and dramatic that I’m surprised I don’t have whiplash.
I pull at my shirt, looking at it. "I'm wearing Ryan Fitzpatrick's jersey?"
My response comes out more of a question than a statement. I’m confused because although the name is literally printed on the back, anyone in Florida should know who he is and what his number is.
"Not who's jersey. Who does it belong to? Where did you get it?" he asks.
I blink for a second, trying to process what he’s asking when it hits me all at once that Callan is jealous. He thinks a man gave me the shirt. Why on earth would he even make that leap? "Are you for real right now?"
"It's a legitimate question," he replies stubbornly.
"My dad bought it for me when we went to the game. I purposely got it bigger to wear to bed," I tell him sternly as I watch him wince. "Any more questions?"
"I know I'm being an idiot."
"You sure are."
"Common sense seems to go out the window when I'm around you," he says sheepishly.
“You do realize you make no sense, right?" I ask sarcastically. He just shrugs his broad shoulders.
"You can stay, but you must keep your clothes on," I insist. I should say no. Then again, I shouldn’t be excited that Callan is jealous over me.
And I am.
"Spoilsport," he mumbles, making me struggle to hide my smile. The big issue here is I really like Callan. I like him more than I should, and I could easily let it develop into something more.
I lay on my bed and watch as he kicks off his shoes before reaching for the hem of his sweater. He pulls it off with one yank.
"Wait, wait, wait. Clothes were supposed to stay on," I tell Callan, trying not to stare at his muscular chest.
"It's hot in here. Besides, everyone knows shirts are optional for men." I give him a look that tells him he's full of crap. "If it makes you feel any better, you can take your shirt off too."
"In your dreams," I respond, rolling my eyes.
"Actually, I have been dreaming about that very thing," he admits.
"Oh, God," I laugh, feeling myself blush. I get under the sheets but look over my shoulder at him. "You will stay on top of the covers."
I can tell he's not happy about it, but he lies on top of my comforter, scooting in close and pulling me to him. Once we get settled, I relish how good it feels surrounded with his body heat—his arms around me as he spoons my body.