Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“I think we’re misunderstanding each other. I said you’re young, not that I wasn’t interested.” He pushed his drink away, then mine.
“Bossy much?” But I liked that if we were hooking up, he didn’t want either of us to have had much to drink. I found it kind of hot.
I froze when he reached out, cupped my cheek with his hand. I wasn’t a twink, really, but he looked bigger than my five feet ten. We were both lean, but it was clear we physically took care of our bodies—mine with running and weights, and I was blessed with a fast metabolism despite the shit I ate. He was broader than me, though.
Honey on a Biscuit brushed his thumb against my cheekbone, making me tremble and my cock ache.
“You’re adorable.”
“Adorable doesn’t sound very much like, I want to jump your bones. Which is okay if you’re not interested. I don’t beg, and I’m not down with pressuring anyone, but the fire in your eyes tells a different story.”
He dropped his hand. “Are you always this bold?”
“Why not? It’s not like I’m looking for a happily ever after.” I wasn’t sure if I believed in that. I would never let myself depend on a man for anything, would never let myself believe I could count on someone, that they would keep their promises. “I want a good time, and that’s it. I’m too focused on my future to let myself get distracted with a man.”
He cocked his head slightly as if he hadn’t expected that. “What do you want to do?”
My turn to be surprised. I hadn’t figured he’d care enough to ask. “I’m going to be a teacher. I know. People tell me I’m crazy all the time, especially my best friend, but teachers literally help mold young minds. A good one can change someone’s life and—oh.”
He pressed his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to defend yourself. I would never think you’re crazy for that. It’s admirable. You care about others. You want to help them learn. I have nothing but respect for that.”
“Oh,” I said a second time, as if it was suddenly the only word I knew. “Thank you. And I know. It’s just…the money isn’t great, and educators get the shit end of the stick. They can’t teach what they want and have to basically worry about nothing but test scores. They’re incredibly underappreciated. But I’ve never wanted to do anything more.”
He grinned, making me realize I’d gone off on a bit of a tangent…again.
“Sorry about that. So are we going to have sex or not because—”
Honey on a Biscuit turned in his chair, grabbed my hips, and tugged me forward until I stood between his legs. “Yes, I think we are. You’re irresistible.”
“And you’re a smart man.”
He chuckled, his large, warm hands sliding up my waist and under my shirt. Damned if I didn’t let out a whimper, heat pooling in my gut.
“I can’t wait to watch you come apart.” His voice was lower then, like a caress down my body.
“Should we be going?”
He leaned in, so close I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead, his mouth went to my ear. “Yes, we should.”
CHAPTER TWO
Harrison
I wasn’t in the habit of picking up strangers in a bar, men or women, and taking them back to my hotel room. I wouldn’t pretend I was anything close to virginal and that I didn’t enjoy spending time in bed with another person, because I did. But it wasn’t typically done this way—someone approaching me or me approaching them when I went out for a drink. Though the sex happened now a lot more than it used to.
I’d had my son when I was barely nineteen years old. I was just a kid myself when I became completely responsible for another person, and I’d done most of it on my own. Between raising him, working my ass off to put myself through college, and then continuing with even more energy to find a way to make it, when Ross had gone off to college, it had finally been time for me. I’d spent the last four years fucking like most people did in their early twenties.
I wasn’t done having fun yet, so why would I deny myself this beautiful man who intrigued me in ways I couldn’t ever remember feeling? Because he did. I couldn’t put my finger exactly on what it was about him. He was gorgeous, clearly—long, lean, with tight, sinewy muscles. His hair was a light chocolate color, with lighter honeyed streaks. He had gray-blue eyes, a rounded nose, and those lips… Fuck, those goddamned lips. All pouty and plump and so fucking kissable. He was beautiful in a way not many people were.
“Are you still not going to tell me your name?” I asked him when we got outside.