Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I jump to my feet. “Want me to strangle you?”
He licks his lips, then bites his bottom. “Yes. Please.”
Quinn curses under his breath.
And because I eat boys like these guys for every meal or in my head think so, I lean in and shove a piece of bacon in Ambrose’s mouth, then tear the last part away from his mouth and chew.
His eyes widen.
Quinn dies laughing.
I keep chewing and then whisper in his ear. “I’ll find some rope.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ambrose
I gulp and look away, all thoughts of bacon completely gone, while Quinn’s smart smirk calls me out; the guy doesn’t even need words.
I have to fix the tension.
Fix the situation.
Fix the knot in my gut and the pressure in my chest as my brain tells my body we’re all the three of us completely alone.
And it’s the weekend, so really there are so many options, aren’t there? Unfortunately.
Luckily, it’s Quinn that speaks up first. “Well, on that note, I think I’ll leave each of you in capable hands.” He nods. “Then again, you don’t really have adult supervision, so make sure you don’t get the cops called on you or burn the house down or whatever; I don’t even know why I’m saying all this.” He stares me down. “It’s you.”
“It’s me.” I agree.
He shakes his head. “The perfect super responsible…” He takes a step toward me. “…Ambrose.”
My breath legit catches in my chest as he looks me up and down, then over at B. “Have fun, kids. Find someone else for bail money; I’m gonna be out this afternoon fixing my Jeep.”
“Wait.” I grab his arm. “What happened to He-Man?”
“He-man?” MB repeats. “What the hell is a He-Man?”
“Childhood dream.” Quinn points his key fob at her. “Back off, I wanted to be a badass superhero, so I named my car after the best one of all time.”
B snorts out a laugh and crosses her arm. “Are you forgetting Iron Man? Mr. Fantastic? Captain America? How can you even call yourself a fan of comics if you don’t at least mention Charles Xavier!”
I do a double take, she’s literally pissed about this, and it’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. Hell, she mentioned Xavier.
I’m so dead.
I love X-men.
Fucking got drunk one time and yelled, “I’m Wolverine, bitches.” And proceeded to grab straws and hold them between my fingers like I had claws.
In hindsight, I’m lucky I still had friends after that.
Quinn thought it was hilarious, then again, he did burst into tears about how Wolverine lost Jane, and it was like a whole moment.
Thank God nobody got it on camera.
Quinn reaches out and pats B on the head. “I think we’ll keep you. Anyone who doesn’t forget that the X-men are actually part of the marvel universe can sit at this table. Am I right, Ambrose?”
“That would be correct.”
Quinn winks at her and then looks over at me. “Give my regards to Wolverine.”
“Yeah okay, Jane.” I roll my eyes, refusing to be embarrassed. I mean, at least I was Wolverine. He was my crush, yeah as I even say that in my head, doesn’t work, doesn’t bring back good memories.
He bursts out laughing and, still shirtless, just walks away from us without a care in the world. The sound of the front door slamming is pretty damning as I look over at MB, and she looks up at me, her pretty brown eyes full of questions.
“So…” She reaches around me for another piece of bacon and chomps it down. “Wolverine, hmm? There a story there?”
I lean closer toward her. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”
She shrugs and walks past me. “Meh, I’m good.”
Okay, so now I want to tell her.
Women! So manipulative!
“Where you going?” I follow her as she weaves her way around the pristine living room; they really did clean up great for me, huh. She opens the back door and walks out into the backyard. I almost bump into her and barely stop myself.
She eats the rest of the bacon and then stares out at the pool. “Wanna swim?”
“You sure I won’t drown you?”
She lets out a laugh and turns to give me a light shove. “You’re like a baby giraffe right now; you can barely stand up, let alone hold me under.”
“Wanna bet on it?” Are these words actually coming from my mouth? I want to smack myself. Instead, I just wait for her response, thinking she’s going to shove me harder, get offended, or just pissed… instead she pulls the shirt over her head and drops it onto the ground.
My mouth goes completely dry.
She’s in nothing but a white Nike sports bra and small gray underwear that, after kicking off her sweatpants, yup, I lick my lips, barely cover her ass cheeks as she sways away from me, her long legs giving me visions of a lot of very naughty things for my future.