Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I moan, shuddering, dangerously close to finishing what we started.
He’s created a monster, all right, and it hurts not to show him just what kind of little beast I want to be.
“Give me your phone,” he orders, pushing his hand into my pocket without waiting for an answer.
Before I can protest, he’s fumbling with the screen.
“Hey! What’re you doing?”
“Putting in my digits as soon as you unlock this fucking thing. Here.” He shoves it back into my hand and folds his arms, waiting.
Oof.
I feel like I’m fetching insurance info for a cop. He’s so ridiculously grumpy I laugh.
For a split second, I think about messing with him, punching in nonsense that isn’t whatever number he tells me.
That would be the smart thing.
Pump the breaks.
Think about this before I make any big lofty promises I can’t keep.
I mean, I barely know this guy, even if a dumb, romantic part of me wants to.
And that’s the same part of me holding a one-way ticket to heartbreak city when I wake up and realize he’s not sticking around for more than gravity-defying sex.
He said it himself.
He’s only here for now.
But if I have any regrets tomorrow, I can chalk tonight up to a few too many drinks and a mountain of pent-up tension.
If I just lie, I won’t be tempted.
I won’t wind up throwing myself at Lucifer and loving it.
I won’t have to deal with his bossy, dirty mouth.
Oh, but then won’t I miss out on learning what else his mouth can do to me?
What he sounds like when I’m full of him, experiencing every inch of my body painted in screaming fire as he owns me in ways I’ve only imagined.
And I don’t want to imagine anymore.
I don’t want to be Miss V-card.
Somehow, this mysterious bad boy showed up just in time to offer me a way out.
“Get those fingers moving. Four-one-eight...” He rattles off his number.
God help me, I enter every digit dutifully, holding it up when he’s finished so he can see me save his contact.
Fine.
I can always delete it later if I chicken out.
Next time—if there is a next time—there won’t be any distractions.
We won’t let it happen.
Marnie, eat your heart out.
The only thing you’ll be choosing is where you’ll buy me lunch for our last semester.
I smile, remembering her end of the deal. I’m almost giddy at the impossible thought that I might win.
“Let’s go. I’ll help make sure none of these clowns are too drunk to drag their asses home,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along.
And he’s as good as his word.
We make the rounds together, waking up snoring couples and helping them find their phones. Once we’re sure they’re sober enough to drive or have a ride by app, they’re on their merry way.
When we’re finished, Chris walks me to the back door.
I savor his heat the whole walk up the winding beach path.
It’s so silent, so warm.
The cool water lapping the shore and soft summer breeze become the white noise of our new world.
“It was nice meeting you,” I say, kicking myself for how lame that sounds. “We’ll text tomorrow?” I ask hopefully.
“We’d better, princess, or else I’ll have to start trespassing a hell of a lot more.” He reaches down and slides his fingers through my hair, catching long dark locks and giving them a stern pull.
“Remember what people did at this little sex party. Whatever you saw,” he says, glancing around the now empty beach. “I’m gonna do that to you in spades, Cordelia. If you come that hard off my fingers, you’ll lose your damn mind when I suck your clit.”
Wrong.
It’s already long gone.
Especially when he pulls me forward, lowering his face, pulsing more hot breath into my ear.
“Get the fuck home. Rest up. Have a nice, peaceful night. Then tomorrow evening, whenever your family shit’s done, clear your calendar.”
“Okay,” I whisper, feeling disembodied.
“We’ll need the whole night. I need to hear you again, everything you had to muffle on this beach. Need to make you scream, baby girl, and you will once you’ve had more. You’ll holler real sweet for me, and then you’ll beg.”
I’m speechless.
Floored.
Apparently, I’m not the only one whose brain has fallen out.
And I guess it’s still spinning away in the night because I’m going to pieces for this crazy stranger’s dirty talk.
I’m about to push him into the darkness up the path before he flashes me those sultry, determined green eyes again.
Nope. Too late.
“So you really don’t hate me for tonight?” I venture.
“I’ll hate you if you’re having second thoughts,” he rumbles. “I’ll hate you, but I’ll understand—”
“Tomorrow,” I hiss, unable to get my mind off his body.
My eyes drift lower.
He’s still rock hard, his bulge blatantly outlined in jeans.
“I’ve got your number. We’ll make a night of it,” I promise.
“Good night, sweet Delia.”
He nods one more time and fades into the night, leaving me sighing and collapsing against the wall of the bar.