Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“She forgets how to count around the number two,” I tell Dalton faux-sadly as I watch him fight to keep pace with Rayleigh’s counting. He’s sitting in a V-position, balancing on his ass with his legs up in the air, pulsing two handles out at his side in a fly move. The straps are spring-loaded with the maximum resistance the reformer provides, yet Dalton’s been doing the move with ease, at least until Rayleigh started doing her usual challenge to exhaustion.
It’s for his own good. But I’m enjoying the view.
“See anything you like?” Dalton asks through gritted teeth.
“Hmm,” I hum thoughtfully. “Not really. You’re kinda sweating everywhere and it’s gross.”
It’s not. Despite the rivers of sweat running down his face, gross is the last word I’d use to describe Dalton. He looks rough, tough, and strong, but the sexiest thing about him has been his willingness to try new things with an open mind.
I prejudged Dalton, assuming he would talk down the workout’s intensity, or call some of the moves stupid the way Shepherd would, but he’s done nothing of the sort. He’s been respectful and kind to Rayleigh, and funny and flirty with me.
As we wrap up at the end of our hour, Rayleigh asks, “I’ll see you this week for our usual session?” Her eyes dance to Dalton before returning to me.
“Yeah, Wednesday morning. Thanks for putting up with us today. Hope he didn’t annoy you too much.” I throw a thumb out, pointing at Dalton as if he deserves all the blame for today’s unusual session.
He freezes, the towel he’s swiping over his face covering his mouth, which seems to be hanging wide open given the amusement in his eyes. “Me? I’m not annoying,” he argues, laughing at that absurd claim. His laughter turns into an arrogant grin as he lets the towel drop. “I’m awesome!”
“Oh, you mispronounced it,” I tease, and without thinking, I pat his chest. “It’s awww-full-of-shit.”
I feel the vibration in his chest as he growls—at my touch or the tease?—and try to pull my hand back before Rayleigh gets the entirely wrong idea. But Dalton grabs hold of my hand, keeping it there so I can feel his heartbeat slamming against my palm as his dark eyes hold me in a trance.
The ease with which I touched him shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. It feels comfortable and right to help myself to his chest, his bicep, his smile. But I don’t let myself kiss his full lips this time, not even when they lift into a smile and I can feel the zinger coming back.
“If I’m awww-full-of-shit, then you’re a cuntcake—sweet to taste and pretty to look at, but will rip your soul out if you’re not careful.” His tone is light and jokey, but it feels like there’s a thread of something deeper in the way his eyes are locked on mine.
Rayleigh gasps, offended on my behalf. “I’d prefer if you didn’t use that type of crude language here. Especially about my friend.”
I can’t help but feel glowy inside. She’s a great friend, albeit quite unaccustomed to the way guys show familiarity and camaraderie. That’s not surprising, though, since she doesn’t spend time around men the way I do.
I get that Dalton’s giving me affection with what would seem to be an insult, but what I heard was sweet and pretty, along with a reveal that he’s still scared of me and what I make him feel. That’s a big deal for a guy like Dalton to admit to, and honestly, a bolder vulnerability than I’ve given him at this point.
“Crude, yes,” I tell Rayleigh. “And I’m sure he’s sorry”—I prompt Dalton, who mumbles an apology while nodding regretfully—“but I’m not offended by it. Hell, just because I have a vagina doesn’t mean my balls aren’t bigger than his anyway.”
Rayleigh blinks rapidly several times as though we are the most confusing people she’s ever met and what I said makes zero sense. But Dalton understands and fights to hold back a laugh. “She does have big balls,” he deadpans. “Waltzes right into the locker room to give the guys hell anytime she wants, has me on a dick leash, and even her brother is terrified of her. Though that’s probably because she’s tormented him since the day she was born.”
I jerk my eyes to his, first because of the dick leash comment, but then suddenly wondering what Shep’s told Dalton about me. I hadn’t considered that he might have some preconceived notions of his own about his best friend’s sister.
Rayleigh still seems unsure, but she takes her cue from me and when I smile to let her know everything’s fine, she shrugs. “Okay, see you Wednesday.”
I’m sure she’ll have questions for me then, but I push that worry to the back of my mind as I wave goodbye.