Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Guys love tits and skin.
“Take your time,” he offers, magnanimous as ever.
I lick my lips.
“How about…you choose for me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BRODIE
“…You choose for me.”
An impossible task.
On the one hand, if she removes her shirt, I get to stare at her gorgeous tits. On the other hand, if she takes off her bottoms, I get to stare at her fantastic ass.
It’s a win/win and a lose/lose at the same fucking time.
I mentally do a round of Eeny Meeny Miney Moe, landing on her top and pointing at her shirt.
“The random removal generator chooses your sweatshirt,” I tell her, my cheeks on fire.
“Random generator?” Lizzy laughs at the same time she reaches down, fingers lifting the hem of her sweatshirt and tugging it up, giving me glimpses of her stomach one inch at a time.
When she has it over her head, she tosses it to the floor. She gives her hair a shake, finger combing it so it lays in long sheets over her shoulders.
She is so pretty.
“The best part of this game,” Lizzy announces. “Is that we’re not allowed to touch each other.”
Was I planning on touching her? I don’t know. But now that she mentioned it, touching is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do in my whole miserable life.
“How long aren’t we allowed to touch each other?” Best to set parameters and expectations straight away.
“Er. I have no idea. I was just being dramatic.” Her confession has us both giggling if I were prone to giggling. “The hold out is the winner.”
Oh shit. Another game?
“We’re playing like, three games now. Games within games within games—I’m not able to keep them straight.”
“Name ’em,” she demands.
“Connect Four, Strip Connect Four, the questions game, and No Touching.”
Her face falls. “Oh yeah, that is a lot.”
Her expression makes me laugh, but also, my eyes go to her boobs, and all thoughts leave my brain. If she wants to add one more thing to our list, who the hell am I to tell her no.
And so begins another game. I sort all the pieces and hand her the red ones, holding all mine in the palm of my hand, glancing at the game grid, then over at her boobs.
Game grid.
Boobs.
Game grid.
Boobs.
Sue me, would you? It’s not my fault, they’re practically begging me to stare, all spilling out of that little cotton bra she put on for bedtime. Doesn’t she own any that fit properly, or is she doing this shit on purpose?
“You go first since I went first last time.”
Kay.
I nod, waiting for her to ask me a question.
“What’s your greatest strength that has nothing to do with hockey?”
Hmmm. Good one. “Uh.”
Uh.
I mean, I have lots of strengths, don’t get me wrong, but naming them on the spot is daunting and makes me feel like I’m on the opposite end of a job interview.
“I’m…I see a lot of shit, and I’m not quick to rush into things.” Including scuffles on the ice. Or drama when it comes to my buddies, or drama with my buddies and the females they bring back to the house. But because I’m more observant, it means I see a lot of this drama coming before it actually happens.
I slide my piece into the game board, second slot to the left.
“Interesting,” Lizzy mumbles.
“What’s your worst personality trait?” I blurt out—without thinking—internally cringing when she raises her brows at me.
I sag with relief when she lets out a laugh. “My worst personality trait? Gosh, I have no idea. Um. Sometimes I laugh at inappropriate times—like when things are somber, but I’m freaking out? So instead of crying, I laugh.”
She plunks her chip in the game board to punctuate her sentence. It drops with a thud.
“What’s one of your regrets?” she asks me, repositioning herself on the bed so she’s lying on her stomach, resting her chin in her hands—giving me a clear shot of her cleavage.
One of my regrets?
“How much time do you have?” I push out a laugh even though I’m serious. The first answer that pops into my head I’m not stupid enough to say out loud.
One of my regrets? Staying a virgin this fucking long because now I’m insecure about it. And scared. And excited. Worried that when I finally fucking do it, I’m going to blow my load in under thirty seconds.
I say none of these things. “One regret? Not having much of a social life.”
Plunk.
“Well…” Lizzy smiles at me. “You don’t have that problem anymore, do you? You have me.”
You have me.
You have me.
I’ll be lying in bed later, staring at the ceiling, thinking about those words, guaranteed I do.
“What’s the best thing anyone has ever given you?” I ask as she waits to take her turn. She’s still on her stomach, watching me, a red chip pinched between her index finger and thumb.
“Best thing anyone has ever given me?” She bites down on her bottom lip and hums.