Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 155203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 776(@200wpm)___ 621(@250wpm)___ 517(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 776(@200wpm)___ 621(@250wpm)___ 517(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. Turn left at the top of the stairs, end of the hall. That’s mine and Ryder’s.”
“Thanks.”
I set my empty bottle on the counter and dart upstairs. The music isn’t as loud up here. I welcome the muffled respite, needing to clear my head. I reach the bathroom door just as the one across from it swings open and a dark-haired girl slides out of the bedroom.
“Oh, sorry,” she exclaims after bumping into me.
We jump apart with awkward laughs.
“All good,” I say.
I tense slightly when I realize it’s Carma. I was right. They did go upstairs. I resist the urge to peer into the bedroom to see if Ryder is still in there. I imagine him adjusting his shirt. Zipping up his pants.
She notes my wary expression and quickly adds, “Don’t worry, I’m allowed to be up here. I left my necklace in Ryder’s room last time I was here, so I was just grabbing it.” She holds up a silver pendant with a tiny silver cross dangling off it. “Anyway…have a good night.”
“You too,” I murmur.
I watch her go, trying to ward off the prickly sensation pinching my gut as I duck into the bathroom to pee. While I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Wondering if I should have worn more makeup. I only dabbed on some concealer and lip gloss earlier. I look unnervingly plain compared to the woman I saw in the hall.
Then again, I can’t look that bad, considering Beckett has been eye-fucking me all night. I feel a tug between my legs at the idea of doing more than eye-fucking each other. God, some release would be nice. Going solo feels good, but sometimes a girl just needs a really good dicking.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Beckett leans against the wall waiting for me.
“Hey,” he says. “Thought maybe you’d gotten lost.”
“Nope.” I smooth out my hair before tucking it behind my ears. It’s rare that I wear my hair down. Usually I keep it in a braid.
Neither of us makes a move toward the stairs. Beckett’s gaze conducts a slow perusal of my body, this time lingering on my braless breasts rather than my midriff.
“You really do look incredible. Don’t think I can stress that enough.”
“Are you hitting on me right now?”
“Yes. Do you want me to stop?”
I slowly shake my head. “No.”
He moves closer to me. Those gray eyes dancing. He’s that type, I can tell. The guy who’s always down for a good time. For a laugh. A screw.
“There’s something about you,” he says, his voice low, husky.
“Is that a line?”
“No. I don’t use lines. I say what’s on my mind. And there’s just something about you that makes a man…” He drifts off, thoughtful.
“Makes a man what?”
“All jumbled in the head.” He smiles. “I look in your eyes and kind of get lost in them.” He sounds a bit sheepish now. “I know that does sound like a line, but I swear it’s the truth—”
Before he can finish, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.
He’s startled. Then I feel his lips curve against my mouth in another smile.
“Sorry,” I blurt out, blushing from a pang of embarrassment. “I should have asked if I could do that. Is it okay?”
He responds by kissing me again.
The next thing I know, I’m pressed up against the wall, my hands twined around his neck, his tongue in my mouth. He’s a good kisser.
A shiver dances through me when I realize he’s hard. I feel him against my leg. And I’m melting into him. Warming up to the idea of throwing caution to the wind and letting myself feel good. If I’m going to hook up with anyone tonight, Beckett seems like a perfect candidate. Like someone who’s not going to expect anything else or want more from me.
His tongue touches mine again, and suddenly I hear loud throat clearing.
We break apart. My pulse careens faster when I see Ryder standing at the top of the stairs.
“Sorry to interrupt.” He drawls the words, yet there’s a sharp edge to them. “Got a little problem.”
Beckett glances over his shoulder, but Ryder’s looking at me, not him.
“Your boyfriend’s downstairs.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RYDER
I don’t get jealous
“WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?”
Colson’s face is thunderous as he watches me descend the staircase. You can tell “pissed off” is not a natural state for him. He gives off a real Boy Scout vibe. Mr. Good Guy who’s always smiling and taking everything in stride. Right now, though, his jaw is tighter than a drum. He blustered up the driveway a few minutes after I sent Carma on her way. With his lackey in tow, of course. When they burst inside, Trager’s red face and clenched fists begged Case to unleash him on the world, but Colson kept his friend in check.