Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
A long, dramatic sigh escapes her, and she gives a feeble shrug.
There’s so much I could say right now, but my lips remain sealed.
“You have always been confident, Crew, charismatic and mysterious almost. Effortlessly attractive and an expert flirt.” She shakes her head. “I’m not. There isn’t an intriguing or interesting thing about me. I’ve had study groups and class projects with assigned partners dozens of times, more than half of those being male partners, and never once did any of them ever try to so much as cop a feel or steal a kiss. Not once did any of them ever ask me out for lunch after or anywhere at any time, if it wasn’t directly related to getting our work done. I just need your help to…” She pauses, swallowing, and when she speaks again, it’s a low, broken whisper, “God, I don’t even know what I need help with because I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I don’t know why, and I know I’ll question myself later, but later is later, and now is fucking now.
I go to her, grab her by the hand, and tug her to me.
At first, she smiles, that tight-lipped, sad side smile, the one she gave me when I finally looked up at her that day at the café, after years of staying away. But that smile smooths out, as does the tension in her gaze, replaced by something deeper, darker, when I lift that hand up. I press the tips of her fingers to the edge of my throat, just beside my Adam’s apple, right over the beat of my pulse. It kicks up then, and I step in more.
My left palm closes around the dip of her waist while my right snags a strand of her silky, copper-colored hair as I lean in, closer and closer, until I can whisper in her ear, but I don’t just yet.
I wait, dipping my chin a bit as I breathe, slow and long, through my mouth, allowing my warm breath to tickle along the exposed skin of her neck.
Only when her fingers curl into the arm of the couch I’ve got her against, do I speak.
“I can promise you, Sweets, there isn’t a damn thing wrong with you. Quite the opposite, in fact.” I give that strand a tug, and her huffed little breath brushes my collarbone. “See, men can be real dumb creatures. Sometimes, if we’re feeling inferior and think we’re not equipped with the tools needed to win over the woman we want, the one that catches our attention the second she’s spotted, then we simply choose not to try.”
My thumb sneaks beneath the hem of her shirt and I draw slow, skimming circles along her hip.
She gives a short, sweet gasp, and I lick my lips.
“I’ve watched guy after guy look at you the way you’re craving to be looked at, Davis. They see you, want you…”
“Don’t lie to me, Crew.” Her voice nothing more than a raspy whisper.
“No reason to, Sweets. It’s the truth. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” I turn my face into hers a bit, yesterday’s shave grazing the curve of her cheekbone.
The slightest of shivers works its way through her body, and her hands come up to clutch my biceps.
“They used to look at you and see this bombshell with long legs and lush lips… then everyone else grew, caught up and passed you, but you were done getting taller. You went from a long, lean dream to a short, sweet little thing, but one thing that has never changed is the pull you possess. Men want you, but they know without daring to swing, a strike is coming, because how could a woman like you, who is so adorably fucking clueless of her own appeal, possibly feel the same?”
“Crew.” Her fingertips dig into my skin.
I shuffle closer, dipping my head into her neck a bit. “I feel you shivering, your muscles tightening. Feel my own body heating… hardening. So, there you go, proof there ain’t a damn thing wrong with you, Davis Franco.” I hold a moment, slowly pulling back to meet her dark, dilated eyes. I release her, stepping out of her grasp, out of her reach. “We’ll call this lesson one. Remember it.”
This time when I move for the door, she doesn’t stop me, and thank fuck for that.
Pinning her against it would be a shit idea.
Chapter Seven
Davis
I jolt at the overly aggressive knock that could only mean one thing. Crew Taylor is at my door.
The same Crew Taylor who hypnotized me not nine-ish hours ago.
Seriously, he must have because of all the times I’ve dreamed of touching him, I would never dare, and I clutched him like I could. Like it was allowed.
I held on to him like he did me, tight, and skin to heated skin.