Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Any second now, Kandice and Becca are going to try and pull me into this conversation about the firefighter and I’m going to out myself further as the one who doesn’t belong. Maybe it’s for the best if I take a trip to the ladies’ room. By the time I come back, maybe they’ll have gotten the topic out of their systems and we can go back to talking about today’s lecture.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, setting down my sweaty glass on a table and beginning a zigzag through the lively crowd. I’m almost to the bathroom when I’m jostled in the direction of the bar, instead—the opposite direction of where I want to go. I dig my heels into the sticky floor, but the customers are excited about something happening in the baseball game and I’m knocked sideways—right into the arms of a man.
The faint smell of smoke and a punch of musk make my eyelids flutter.
It’s…pleasing.
But I don’t look up, because this situation is already embarrassing—I’m wedged between his thighs—so I stammer an apology and attempt to turn around, so I can go hide in the bathroom. I’m drawn to a halt, however, when his fingers spread out on the small of my back and hold me in place. Strong, commanding fingers.
Not indecisive ones.
Oh dear. His thighs are…thick. Thicker than my whole body.
He’s wearing a tight, navy-blue T-shirt with a fire department insignia on the right breast and tattoos stick out from all available sides. The sleeves, the collar…
Oh my gosh, this is one of the firefighters Kandice and Becca were talking about, isn’t he? I’ve ventured to the bathroom and ended up—basically—in his lap.
Inhaling slowly and letting it out, I look up…
And lock eyes with the most mesmerizing man I’ve ever seen.
That shade of blue shouldn’t exist outside of a fantasy novel. His dark hair sets his intense azure gaze off even more. It’s hair that wants to be unruly, but he’s tried valiantly to tame it by slicking it to one side, angled to the back.
My goodness, he is very attractive. Very, very attractive. Tall and powerfully built. But it can’t be the mysterious fireman Kandice and Becca were raving about, because this man is most definitely not interested in the baseball game.
He's frowning at me like I’ve been sent to confuse him.
Of course, he is. I’ve been flung into his lap.
You’ve been staring too long.
“I…I’m sorry,” I breathe, my voice sounding funny. “I was on my way to the ladies’ room and I just l-lost my balance. I’ll stop assaulting you now.”
I try to back away, but once again, his hand doesn’t allow me to move. Not an inch.
I’m confused by the moan that builds in my throat. There’s a tug between my thighs I’ve never experienced before and I have a weird desire to feel his hand…lower.
On my backside?
Weird.
“Let me see your ID,” he says, his deep baritone making me shiver hotly.
“Why?”
His right eyebrow ticks up. “I smell the vodka on your breath, so you obviously fooled the bartender, gorgeous, but you’re not fooling me.”
Until this very moment, I didn’t realize how much the Boston accent appealed to me. Maybe it’s just the way this man wields it? Bartender sounds like bah-tender. Gorgeous sounds like gah-geous. Has the vodka gone to my head, because I have this shameful impulse to press my mouth to his lips so I can feel those distinct pronunciations up close. Feel them vibrate through me all the way down to my knocking knees.
“My ID is legit. And anyway, you’re a firefighter, not a cop,” I point out matter-of-factly. “You can’t check my ID.”
“Is the fake ID in your pocket?”
“No, it’s in my purse.”
His beautiful head tilts. “So, you do have a phony one.”
Caught, I flush. “Everyone in this town has a fake ID. There is a literally a guy on campus nicknamed Fake ID Greg. Please don’t rat me out. I’m just…I wanted to make friends.” Am I really telling this sob story to a stranger? In a bar? Between his thighs? “It’s hard for me to make friends, but it would be even more difficult if I wasn’t able to get into the bars. Drinking and watching sports is the main thing people in Boston like to do.”
His lips tug at one corner, a rumble going off in his chest. Wait. Did he pull me closer? “What would you rather be doing instead?”
I hang my head in shame. “Studying.”
“Ah, Jesus.” His fingertips move slowly up my back, toying almost imperceptibly with the snap of my bra. “Beautiful and smart.” Smaht. Something dark and dangerous travels through his eyes, but maybe it’s just a trick of the light. “You must have those college boys in a frenzy.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, riveted by his masculine neck. His Adam’s apple. All of him.