Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“So do you,” she said.
Not knowing what the fuck to do with them, I slipped my hands into my pockets. I’d become conscious of my every movement. It was like I suddenly forgot how to act around her. Now that we knew where things stood and I had free rein to touch her, I was scared shitless that I was going to move too fast and do something to hurt her.
As we made our way back to my Mustang, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“You ever hear of Oceanside Manor?”
“Yes. That place is crazy fancy.”
“Try to behave, then.” I winked, opening up the passenger side door. “No breaking up any brawls tonight.”
As she settled into the seat, she took a deep breath in. “I’ve missed riding in your car.”
Damn, I’ve missed it, too.
She crossed her legs, revealing that the dress she was wearing had a massive slit that allowed me a view of her toned and tanned leg all the way up to the top of her thigh.
Damn. Damn. Damn. So much for extra time in the car keeping me out of trouble.
Reaching into my pocket for a cigarette, I realized I’d run out. There was no way I was gonna survive a thirty-minute ride with “legs” over here if I couldn’t smoke.
Down the road, I abruptly stopped at a 7-Eleven before we had to get on the highway.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to get some smokes. I left my pack at home.”
I ran out of the car fast so I didn’t have to hear her guilt trip about the fact that I was still smoking. Tonight was not the night to quit.
“Pack of Marlboro,” I said to the cashier.
When he rang me up, I reached into my pocket for my wallet to find that it wasn’t there. Patting my clothing down, I soon figured out that I’d left my wallet at home.
Shit!
I’d been so preoccupied with my wardrobe like a pussy, I forgot the most important thing.
Leaning against the counter, I let out a long breath and slid the cigarettes back toward the man.
“Sorry, dude. Forgot my wallet.”
Gia must have sensed the pissed look on my face when I returned to the car.
“What’s wrong?”
Cranking the ignition, I sighed. “We have to go back. I left my wallet at home. We’ll just stop by my place, and I’ll run in and get it.”
She placed her hand on my thigh, and it made my dick stir. “Don’t be silly. I can pay for dinner.”
There was no freaking way I was going to let Gia do that, even if I paid her back. I couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than watching her open her wallet tonight and pay the tab.
“Nah. I’ll head back.”
The entire ride to my house, I was bracing myself for her reaction when we pulled into my driveway. She’d never seen where I lived.
As we finally approached—as predicted—her eyes bugged out of her head when she got a load of my digs.
“Oh my God. This is your house? It’s amazing.”
Even though I didn’t blow money like my father and brother, with the riches I’d inherited, the one thing I’d afforded myself was a damn nice place of residence.
Two levels, all glass windows on the exterior, and overlooking the ocean, it was definitely a sweet property. There was no denying that. It was on a small private area of beach, secluded—just the way I liked it.
I was just about to run in when Gia asked, “Do you mind if I go in with you? I’d love to see the inside.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she wanted to see the house. Technically, I should’ve been a gentleman and invited her in. I just didn’t trust myself alone with her. But what was I supposed to do now, make her stay in the car after she’d asked to see it?
“Yeah. Sure.”
Once inside, Gia looked around, soaking in my modern but minimalist style. Most of my furniture was black or gray. The walls of the main space were white and covered in my mother’s paintings. I’d specifically asked her to paint different variations of the moon over the ocean at night.
Gia was soaking it all in. “Rush…this place. It’s…”
“Thank you.”
It didn’t take her long to notice the artwork. She walked straight over to the portrait of the fullest moon. “Did your mother do these?”
I trailed behind her. “Yes.”
“They’re amazing,” she said brushing her finger gently over the canvas. “Do you have an obsession with the moon?”
“You could say I like the moon, yeah. He’s always there for me and has a little bit of a dark side, like I do, I suppose. I asked my mother to paint different interpretations of the moon over the water at night.”
I could tell the wheels were turning in Gia’s head, like she was trying to figure out the meaning behind why I loved the moon, maybe trying to find some correlation between it and my yearning for dependability or love or some shit.