Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, and while he didn’t sound great, he didn’t sound like he was in agony, either.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again.
“You’re fine. No harm done.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
He shook his head, wincing slightly. “I’m good. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to buck you off me. It’s just a self-protective thing with guys.”
“I’m fine.” Embarrassed as hell and mad at myself, but fine. “But I’m still afraid I hurt you. Your voice sounds funny.”
He managed a weak chuckle. “Having an erection in tight jeans isn’t the most pleasant thing ever.”
Oh. That made sense. My knowledge of men’s erections was sorely lacking. Sure, I’d felt them pressed against me many times… many, many times, both in scenes where that was all but expected, and ones when it wasn’t. I didn’t have much experience touching them, though.
My fingers still tingled from the unexpected contact. “I’m still sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
This time his laugh was more genuine. “Seriously, I’m fine. And it wasn’t even your fault—the cougar was to blame.”
I blinked in surprise. “Really? That was what caused that?” I gestured at his pants.
“What can I say? You’re an excellent actress.”
“Yeah, but that’s just… weird.”
“It’s a weird body part,” he said with a nod. “But one of my favorites.”
I sank against the back of the sofa, sitting next to him but not facing him. “I’ve heard guys say that, but I’ve never really understood it. Women don’t have favorite body parts—or at least, I don’t.”
“Really?” Drew shifted his body toward me. “If you had to pick one, what would it be?”
Hmm. “My hair, I guess.”
Drew shook his head. “That’s not really a body part. It’s more like an accessory. Though a very pretty accessory.”
I grabbed a handful of my hair and shook it in his direction. “It’s attached to my body. That makes it a body part.”
Drew shook his head. “By that logic, your makeup and your clothes could be considered body parts, too.” Then he lightly touched my thigh. “My clothes, actually.”
I froze at his touch, but not in alarm. “Only the pants are yours.” A thought hit, a naughty one that came from the same part of my brain that had come up with the moves and words for the cougar role before. “Want them back?”
“You can keep them as long as you—” He stopped dead, and his hand stilled on my leg. “Or did you mean… now?”
Feeling suddenly shy, I nodded. I couldn’t tell what had gotten into me, but I suspected it was a combination of the giddy feeling I’d described to Drew before, plus the arousal that’d filled me when he’d had his hands on me. Or maybe it was the very evident proof of his arousal.
“God, yes,” he breathed.
He inhaled sharply, and I knew he was going to provide a disclaimer. That I didn’t have to. Or perhaps that he didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable. The fact that I knew, without a doubt, the sentiment behind what he’d say decided it for me.
Lifting my hips, I tugged the bulky sweatpants off, leaning forward to slip them off of my feet. Then I folded them rather nervously and handed them to Drew. “I, um, probably should’ve washed them before returning them.”
“That’s the last thing on my mind right now,” Drew said in a low voice. To prove his point, he flung the sweatpants away. They sailed over the coffee table and landed just a foot short of the fireplace. “Oops.”
I giggled. “If we burn the place down, it’s going to be a bit awkward explaining how it happened to Tristan and Carter.”
“True.” Drew’s voice sounded strained. “It’s hard to think—for some reason, all the blood has drained away from my brain.”
“Are your jeans too tight again?”
“They never stopped,” he said. “But now, I’m half afraid that the button’s going to pop right off and fly across the room like the sweatpants.”
“Then we can be pantsless together.”
He groaned. “There’s a tempting thought.”
It was in my opinion, too. “That way I wouldn’t be the only one.” I shifted my leg against his. I half wanted to reach over and touch him, but I didn’t want to risk hurting him again.
“Sierra, you’ve had a few drinks, and—”
“I’m not drunk,” I said, confident it was true. But he’d had more than me. “Are you?”
“No. I think you’ve invented a surefire way to sober a man up.”
“Then why not?” Since I wasn’t brave enough to touch his cock, I ran my hand up his arm and sank my fingers into his hair. The way it stuck up and kind of did its own thing had fascinated me for days. “I don’t know why, but I’m feeling kind of… playful.”
He groaned again. “A beautiful woman saying she’s feeling playful is pretty much guaranteed to make a man explode.”