Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Maybe then I could picture us being…
My phone buzzes in the next room, and then there’s a thud, the sound of it hitting the floor after it falls off the nightstand. That damn thing is always going off. Between clients texting me and conversations with my mom, it’s not surprising.
I look at Drew, and something close to suspicion flickers in his eyes as he glances toward my bedroom. "Who is texting you this late?"
"Well, I mean, you were texting me before. It’s not abnormal to receive texts from clients or even my mother at this time of night.”
He jerks his chin up, shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, then turns toward my room. I already know what he’s going to do. Call it instinct or just the knowledge of starting to understand his mannerisms, but I race after him, trying to get to the phone before he does. He makes it into the room first and snatches it off the floor in his big bear paw.
By the time I reach him, he’s thumbing through the messages and using his other hand to fend me off. Despite his six-three height and broad shoulders, the guy is fast as hell. I make a mental note to put a damn passcode on my phone.
“Look. I know you think you own me and everything, but my phone is not your property.” I huff.
Ignoring my statement altogether as he continues thumbing through the messages, he growls, "Who the fuck is Stewart?" His dark gaze penetrates, daring me to lie to him. “Don’t tell me this is one of your tutoring clients."
I sputter. "Of course it is. Who else would it be?”
"I mean, you tell me? What do you call a text this late and him using a nickname to address you? I know you’re smart, Bel. Surely, you can see what I’m seeing."
I roll my eyes because this entire conversation is draining and stupid. "Apparently, I can’t. We’re just friends. He’s probably up late studying, same as I usually am." I grab for my phone again, but his hand moves, resting gently against my collarbone, almost cupping my neck.
"Just friends? Huh? Did you fuck him?”
The words are a literal slap to my face. I sputter and try to step away, but he closes his hand, his fingers coming up around my neck, encasing my throat in a collar of warmth.
"Did. You. Fuck. Him?" he asks again, each word a jab at my heavy beating heart.
I gulp, feeling his hand press tighter as I do. How could he even question that?
"No. Of course I didn't. That night with you… It was my first time." The one I still can't talk about, hell, even think about. "You know I didn't...I hadn't… been with anyone else.”
The feral, animalistic rage in his eyes drains away as reality rushes back to the surface. His grip loosens only slightly as he remembers, weighing my words.
"You're right." I wait for something more: an I'm sorry for being an asshole, Bel. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Bel. Even an…I don't know what I'm talking about, Bel. But I get none of those things. He only stares at me, his eyes skimming down to my breasts where my nipples are peaked from the cold and his touch.
The electrifying current rages between us, making the air tight and hot, crushing around us. What is this, and why do I only feel it with him here when he touches me?
"Why are you like this?" I whisper, afraid that raising my voice will spark some raging fire into existence.
His fingers roll against my skin like he's testing how each one feels wrapped around my neck. "What do you mean?"
"Why are you so..." Words fail me because I don't have any idea of what I'm trying to say. I've never met anyone like him. Like this. The things he makes me feel…
He lowers his head and presses his forehead against mine. A shadow of what appears to be understanding casts upon his face. "I don't know. I don't fucking know."
The answer feels too honest and open for the man I've slowly been getting to know.
Since he's in an honest mood, I try my usual question. "What do you want from me Drew? Please just tell me."
"Bel...wallflower...come here."
He loosens his grasp on my neck, sliding his hand down my spine, tucking me tight against his chest. I lay my cheek against him, letting his warmth fill me. This shouldn't feel so damn good. I should put distance between us and stay away, but right now, I don't have the energy, mentally or physically. And there’s no denying that he makes me feel wanted and desired.
When he pulls away, I almost stagger, and he lowers me back to sit on the bed. Then he crouches in front of me, his tailored pants tight over his thick thighs. My face heats because I'm turned on right now, staring at his fucking thighs.