Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
And that’s exactly what I do… Song after song, we dance our drunken hearts out in the corner of the bar. Well, Kendall dances her drunken heart out while I watch her sway her luscious hips to the beat as she throws her head back, exposing her slim neck. The entire time she belts out the lyrics to each song like she’s performing, I imagine what it would be like for her to be mine. To do more than dance with her. To be able to pull her closer, to kiss and touch her…
I’m lost in my fantasy, so I don’t realize she’s stopped dancing and is looking at me like she’s waiting for me to say something.
“What?”
She cracks up laughing, and I join in, having no idea what we’re laughing about but loving the sound of her laughter when she lets herself go.
“What?” I say again.
“I said, the bar is closing.”
I glance around, and she’s right. Everyone is gone, the music has been silenced, and the lights have been raised. “Well, shit…”
“I don’t wanna go home yet,” Kendall says. Stepping into my space, she wraps her hands around my neck. The smell of her perfume—Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue—mixed with the sweet scent of the whiskey on her breath sends my head into a tailspin.
“Let’s take that bottle up to your place and continue drowning.” She places a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, and shivers, motherfucking shivers, race down my spine.
A throat clears in the distance, and I look over at the bartender, who’s trying to silently convey he’d like to go home. His disruption is enough to help clear the fog clogging my drunken brain.
“What about Kyle?” She’s engaged, which means she shouldn’t be kissing me, and she most definitely shouldn’t be giving me a look that says drinking isn’t the only thing she wants to do once we’re at my place.
“We’re over.”
This gets my attention. Kendall got engaged a little over three months ago, and their wedding is next month. She insisted on fast-tracking the hell out of it, so her saying it’s over is a huge one-eighty.
“What happened?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She drags her nails up my nape, stopping at my bun, and tugs on it gently. “I just…” She swallows thickly. “I just wanna forget.” Her blue eyes, filled with so much sadness, bore into mine, begging, pleading. “Please, Dec,” she breathes. “Help me forget.”
I want to ask questions and find out what the hell’s going on… But remember when I mentioned I would do anything for this woman? I wasn’t kidding. So instead, I simply nod. “All right. Let’s go up to my place.”
CHAPTER TWO
DECLAN
The vibe between us shifts the moment I agree to take things up to my place. She’s quiet on the elevator and stays that way when I unlock the door, and we go inside. I set the bottle on the counter and grab us both a water while she stands in the kitchen, looking around and not saying a word.
“Nobody’s here.” I hand her the water. “It’s just me.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she steps into my personal space, bringing her warmth into my cold, lonely existence. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You didn’t force the drugs down his throat.”
“I knew he was struggling. I should’ve forced him to get help.” It never should’ve fucking come to Gage almost dying. We should’ve done something, said something.
“He wouldn’t have listened,” she argues as if she can hear my silent thoughts. “He needed to hit rock bottom. Now he’ll get the help he needs. And whether you want to believe it or not, he’s alive because of you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, slinging her earlier words back at her. “Want another drink?”
She nods, so I grab two glasses from the cabinet and pour us each a shot. We throw them back, slamming the glasses on the counter. I’m about to ask if she wants another when I’m silenced… by her mouth.
Her supple lips glide against my own. Her tongue, coated with whiskey, delves into my mouth. My tongue swirls against hers, and then I capture it, sucking the liquor off and making her groan.
“Fuck me, Dec,” she whispers against my mouth.
“You sure? We’ve been drinking and—”
“I’m sure.” She palms my face, and I sigh into her embrace. “I want you to fuck me so long and hard, the rest of the world will cease to exist.”
I stare into her eyes, making sure she means what she says, and when I don’t see even the tiniest hint of uncertainty, I grab her ass and lift her into my arms. “You’re about to get the goddamn fucking of your life.”
The second we’re in my room, and I drop her onto the bed, she starts peeling off her clothes. After tossing her winter jacket to the side, she kicks off her boots, each landing somewhere on the floor. When she grabs her shirt, I stop her, removing her fingers from the material. I want to take this slow, worship every inch of her, and memorize every second so when she’s gone—and she will be gone because she’s a runner—I’ll be able to remember what it was like to have her in my arms, for her to be under me, to be inside her. When I’m alone again, I’ll be able to close my eyes and remember everything about tonight.