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)
The fact that I have to try makes this feel like the dating equivalent of yanking a stubborn mower that won’t start.
Miss Whatever gives me a moony stare, knowing I’m asking if she wants to blow out of here.
Her skin feels warm and dry, almost leathery, probably from too much sun.
Fuck this.
My mind wanders again.
Soon, my dick jerks—only because I’m remembering Delia’s soft thighs, the sound she made when she exploded, her sweet pussy going off on my hands.
Laura or Layna or whatever the fuck tries to kiss me.
For someone so bright, her lips feel like ash.
What evil spirit did I piss off to make a perfectly good-looking chick taste like cyanide?
The moan she spills against my mouth says she’s already in seventh heaven.
Meanwhile, I’m still in a beach dive bar that smells like cheap piss beer and surfer hair that could rival wet dog.
I don’t mean to push her away so harshly when I do, but that little minx in my head won’t shut up. It’s frustrating as hell.
Laura-Layna slides down my leg, too drunk to catch herself, sending her half-full margarita glass flying off the table.
Shit.
Even I’m embarrassed by all the eyes on us after the tremendous crash.
I pull my hands back and she scurries off me, wide-eyed and apologetic.
A waitress rushes up to deal with the mess, and I realize I’ve gotten splashed too. This sugary crap feels sticky, dripping all the way up my arm.
“Baby, no! Damn, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! I’m such a klutz. Let me help clean you up.” She smiles, pulls out a napkin, and starts patting me down.
Wrinkling my nose, I push her away before standing. “Gotta hit the men’s room anyway. Give me a minute.”
I head into the bathroom and wash my arm, then throw cool water on my face.
My stubble feels like rough grit sandpaper today, like my whole damn body’s on edge. The same intensity I always get before a mission.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why is it so hard to settle down and do what I’ve always done best—give one lucky woman the night of her life?
I want to punch my own worn reflection, hating the distant, hollowed-out look in my eyes.
This is not the face of a man who ought to be having fun.
This is the ugly goddamned mug of an idiot fixated on his own stepsis.
And there’s no denying Delia’s hot little ass has me screwed up bad and I can’t figure out why.
At a glance, she’s nothing special.
Just another young, hot, responsive spitfire with a fresh college face who just so happens to be brutally off-limits. And yet, she’s gunning to be the end of me without even trying.
I groan, raking a cold hand over my face.
My phone dings.
I rip it out of my pocket, finger-punching the screen.
Speak of the devil—or is it the succubus?
Delia: Hi, are you busy? I’d like to talk about last night...
Adrenaline darts through my blood.
The same superhuman focus I get with my rifle in hand strums my system, except there’s no life or death on the line here.
Only bruised egos.
Talk about what? I text back.
I exit the bathroom and lean against the wall outside, waiting with breath so tense you could cut it.
My phone buzzes again a few seconds later.
Bad blood. If we can clear the air, I’d like to try, Chris. I’m worried we got off on the wrong foot. You had a right to be upset.
Wrong foot? I snort.
More like wrong boner.
I keep reading as another message appears.
Also, Evie and Dad left for the weekend. They took the boat down to San Diego.
Meaning I’ll be alone with her in that huge house then.
Fuck, is she serious or just yanking my dick?
She wants to have a heart-to-heart with nobody else around?
I inhale so sharply my lungs burn.
Delia Burr is either sinfully naive or far more batshit crazy than I guessed.
It takes a few seconds to ignore the fire throbbing in my balls to type back.
I’ll think about it. I decided to come back there tonight, but after the day I’ve had, I may just crash, I lie. Don’t wait up for me.
With a devilish smile, I add, I don’t need to hear you rubbing one out, either. If your vibrator keeps me awake tonight through that wall, we will have problems.
I smile, watching the dots spin, stop, and spin again as she struggles to type.
Nothing ever comes back.
At least that shuts her up and gives me time to screw my head on, never mind the hard-on I’m now sporting that Laura-Layna could never pull out of me.
I’m disappointed she’s still waiting for me at the table, wet and drunk as ever.
I walk up behind her and clear my throat.
She turns, smiling up at me with her thick glossy lips, casting the same look I know she’d have before straining to take every inch of me down her throat.