Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“If only there weren’t so many reasons that can’t happen,” I say, as much a reminder to myself as it is to him.
“Refresh my memory.”
I laugh. The sound breaks some of the tension, and I clear my throat. “For starters, my brother would kill us both.”
“I can take him.”
“Okay.” I laugh again. “Second, we’re friends.”
“You’ll like me even more when I make you come. Promise.”
My face flushes. “Stop it.”
“What other reasons do you have?” he asks. “You gave me two shitty ones.”
My head scrambles, trying desperately to remember why I can’t grab his face and bring his mouth to mine.
He reaches for me, pressing his thumb against my lips. “Just think about it—I’d bring your birthday in with a bang.”
Fucking hell. I struggle to catch my breath as I imagine that scenario in detail. His calloused hands roaming over me. His tongue circling my nipple. His cock—
He laughs, pulling his finger away from me. “All right. Come on, cutie. Let’s get out of here.”
“What?”
He grabs the door handle and leans toward me, lowering his voice. “We better get up there before your brother beats me up.”
I shove his chest. He grabs me, wrapping his hands around my wrists and jerking me into his chest. I pant, staring up into his handsome face.
“Remember something,” he says, eyes sparkling. “You said no.”
“No, I didn’t. We said no.”
He releases me slowly, smirking. “I didn’t say shit.”
Dammit.
My blood heats, pinking my cheeks. I can’t hear anything over my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I fight myself from reaching for him, from taking him to bed and fucking him like an animal.
He pulls open the door and props it open with his foot. “I only get turned down once.” He watches me pass by him, smiling ruefully. “If you ever want this dick, you’re gonna have to beg for it.”
“Ha. Not going to happen. I never beg.”
“Then I guess there’s nothing to worry about.”
I know him well enough to know he’s struggling to keep his amusement off his face. And he knows me well enough to know I know that.
“You’re an asshole,” I say, heading down the hallway. Thankfully without a crowd.
The door closes behind me, ending the moment.
CHAPTER 4
Renn
“It’s been fifteen,” I shout, holding the door open until Blakely and her suitcase get through it.
She uses a few colorful words to get the behemoth over the threshold.
“You could’ve just let me pull it,” I say, repeating the offer I gave her no less than twenty times since we left her room.
“I’m capable.”
“Barely.”
She jams her elbow into my stomach. I humor her by groaning.
Her cheeks are still pink from our conversation a few minutes ago. The rosiness makes me wonder what she looks like after an orgasm—something I’ve wondered too many times to count.
How could I not think about that? Blakely Evans is a wild mix of beautiful, pretty, and sinful.
High, sculpted cheekbones. Delicate, soft shoulders. Dangerously wicked curves.
A gold fleck shines in her eyes when she’s turned on. She nibbles her bottom lip when she’s nervous. She smells like cinnamon and oranges and tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s feeling self-conscious.
Her looks got my attention many years ago, but her personality kept it. And if she wasn’t my best friend’s little sister, and if I was a man who wanted a girlfriend, I might risk asking her out. But it would be a risk because it’s Blakely. She might be the only woman who would turn me down. She’s also the only woman I’ve ever considered as the elusive what-if, too.
“Oh my God, Renn,” Blakely says, abandoning her bag in the foyer and hurrying into the suite. “This is incredible.”
“I really hoped you’d be saying that in a different capacity right about now, but whatever,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear.
She looks at me over her shoulder and grins.
Damn her.
When Brock suggested that we fly to Vegas this morning, I was on board immediately.
Being around Blakely always feels like a vacation—like a break from reality. She doesn’t treat me like I’m anything special. With her, I’m not a professional athlete who can further her career with my contact list. She doesn’t give a damn that my family is one of the wealthiest in the country. Does she even know that? I don’t have to worry about ulterior motives, or if I say or do something dumb, she will send it to the tabloids.
Or, worse, an attorney.
I lean against the wall and watch her take in the space.
“Have you stayed here before?” she asks, her fingers trailing along the wet bar. “Or did you just luck into this?”
“I’ve stayed here a couple of times.” Like the time I bought it.
She hums, strolling through the sitting room and past a spiral staircase that sold me on the property. I didn’t need, or want, a place in Vegas—or anywhere for that matter. But Dad kept chirping at me to secure a place to relax. “You need a getaway, son. You can’t be a wanderer forever.” And Gannon was on my ass about investing my money in real estate to diversify and hedge against inflation, whatever that means.