Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I’m stunned when she launches herself at me and hugs me. I remain stiff with my arms at my sides, but I do inhale the scent of her hair. I wonder if it’s the hair mask. Definitely worth the two grand.
She pulls back and grins. “Me and Aubrey were holding a table for Dempsey and Spencer. You two should play with us until they get here.”
Dax nudges me with his elbow and mutters under his breath, “Hang with your girl, man. I’ll be right over there.”
Before I can beg him not to leave me alone, he’s gone. Gemma frowns after him and then grabs my wrist like she did at Hemingford Hall. Of course I can’t help but go willingly. This weird magnetic hold she has on me is alarming. It makes me want to run the other way, but I can’t.
“One of your followers?” Aubrey, the bitchy blonde, asks. “She’s famous, but you already knew that.”
“Don’t be a brat,” Gemma says, shooting her friend an exasperated look. “Two’s my partner in school.”
Aubrey softens and guilt twists her features. “Sorry. I’m just in a really bad mood. My baby, Rue, kept me up all night. Spencer said he’d bring me garlic knots from that pizza place I love so much, but he’s late. Not only am I cranky from lack of sleep, but I’m hangry and about ready to start eating innocent victims if they look at me wrong.”
Gemma stands beside me, putting an arm around my waist. “Don’t eat my friend. We’re going to have the best project and I need him.”
She needs me.
My heart hammers in my chest.
Gemma releases me and I instantly dislike the feeling. She racks up some balls and then grabs a cue stick. I discreetly check out her ass in her skintight dark denim jeans as she bends over to take the first shot. Aubrey catches me staring and shakes her head, rolling her eyes.
I continue to watch Gemma land ball after ball in whatever pocket she’s aiming for. I’ve played pool some with Dax, but I’m not a goddamn shark like she is. Finally, she misses, and from what I can tell, on purpose, and hands me the stick.
“Your turn.”
I take it from her, noticing a tingling sensation where our fingers touch. Gemma watches me, grinning happily as I scratch the ball on my turn.
“Oh,” Gemma cries out, clapping, “this is too good. Look, Two, I think I may be better at something than you!”
Her words are said in jest, but the usual insecurities creep back in. Golden versus second best. Story of my fucking life.
I want to abandon the game and her, but my feet remain rooted to the floor. Like a fly caught in her web, I watch helplessly as she takes more flawless shots. Again, she purposely misses before handing the stick to me.
“My brother is really good,” Gemma explains as I contemplate my shot. “I really do have the upper hand here, but that’s not your fault.”
“Hmph.”
The cue ball cracks into one of my stripes, barely landing in the corner pocket. Gemma walks over to where I plan to shoot my next ball, standing there with her hands on her hips. I can’t help but dart my gaze up her front. A sliver of her stomach shows beneath her black sweater and a glimmer of a bellybutton ring catches the light.
Fuck, how I’d love to see it up close.
With that thought and my dick chubbing, I miss the cue ball completely, the end of the stick scraping across the green felt. Gemma and Aubrey both crack up laughing. Heat floods my cheeks as I attempt to shake away the embarrassment.
“Cheater,” I grunt out, waving at Gemma to move. “That should earn me extra moves.”
Thankfully, she moves out of the way and I retake the shot. I miss, naturally, and then Gemma cleans up the rest of the table with flawless shots. It’s nearly impossible not to look at her. Hell, me and every other man with a working dick in here can’t keep our eyes off her.
“Another game?” Gemma asks, smirking.
“Nah, losing is boring. Not interested.”
Before I lose my will to walk away, I turn on my heel and stalk away from her to go find Dax. That was an asshole move, but I’m feeling way too out of my element here.
When I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder, I find Gemma in the same spot, staring after me, a pouty frown on her lips.
I ruined her good time.
Why the hell do I feel so damn guilty about it?
Gemma
Two: We have a date for Hemingford Hall. I’ll pick you up in a few.
I rub the sleep out of my eyes as panic sets in. How long ago did he send this text? Thirteen minutes ago. Crap!
Flying out of bed, I manage to throw on jeans, a hoodie, and my sneakers before I get another text.