Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“You’re pretty, you know that?” he says and I roll my eyes. Even if I know this flirtation isn’t just for me, that he’s simply playing with me, I still enjoy it. I crave it even. I’m sure he’s already used these lines tonight.
“Sure, and you’re not too bad looking either.” I enjoy the flirting, the attention. At least coming from him. He makes me feel things I haven’t before.
He splays a hand over his heart and cocks his head as he says, “Well thank you, beautiful, I aim for ‘not bad.’” This time I’m the one laughing, a short, soft snicker as I kick the bottom of my heels against the ground and stare at them for a moment, readying myself to say goodbye and end his bout of teasing. I don’t trust myself not to say anything and instead I just wave and carry on, expecting him to do the same.
“You didn’t answer me,” he calls out after I take a few steps. “What are you doing out here so late?” he asks. It’s forward of him and I usually despise that, but instead I savor the challenge in his voice. Something about it tells me he thinks I’m already his. And that ownership makes my blood that much hotter.
I know I shouldn’t give him any information at all, but I find myself telling him the truth before I can stop myself. “I’m hungry and overworked. So I stopped to grab a bite to eat.”
“You’re getting your dinner from here?” he asks, gesturing to the store and I nod. “A woman like you should be taken out, not eating dinner from the gas station.”
A woman like you plays over and over in my head. He doesn’t know what type of woman I am. “You don’t even know my name,” I say, the half smile and challenge firm on my expression.
He nods and grins, flashing me a cocky smile as he replies, “Don’t make me guess.”
I chew on my lip for a moment, rocking from side to side. He’s bad news and I’m flirting with fire … but I love the thrill. I can’t deny it. “It’s Kat,” I tell him and a smile is slow to form on his face. One of complete satisfaction, as if hearing my name is the best thing that’s happened to him all night.
“I’m Evan,” he says and I taste his name on the tip of my tongue, nearly whispering it. “Let me take you to dinner, Kat,” he suggests with an easiness I don’t like. I wonder how many times that’s worked for him before.
“I’m not your type,” I respond, intentionally looking past him at the bars that wrap around the glass door to the convenience store. I just need a late-night snack to hold me over till morning. That’s all this little errand was supposed to turn into.
“I don’t think you should tell me what is and isn’t my type.” Although it comes out playful, there’s a hint of admonishment, and my naïve little heart doesn’t like that. “You might be surprised,” he adds.
I clear my throat and try to breathe evenly, wanting this flirting session to end so I can get back to work. I have to admit the attention is very much appreciated, though. And the desire in his eyes looks genuine.
“Sorry, Charlie, didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him with a playful pout as I walk past him.
“It’s Evan,” he says, repeating his name and that makes a wicked grin play at my lips, “and you’re wrong.” The last part is spoken with a seriousness I wasn’t expecting. His tone is hard and when I turn around to face him fully, finally taking a step onto the curb, he’s no longer leaning on the hood of the Mercedes. He takes a few strides across the asphalt parking lot and stops in front of me as I ask, “Wrong about what?”
Up close he’s taller than I first thought, more intimidating too and his shoulders seem broader, stronger. Even his subtle moves as he brushes his jaw with his rough fingers and licks his lower lip again, are dominating. He glances to the left and right before opening his mouth again and letting that deep, rough voice practically ignite the air between us.
“You’re wrong that you aren’t my type and that I’m not your type.”
The compliment makes my body feel hotter than it already is in the hot summer night. Someone behind me exits the store, the telltale jingle of the bells and the whoosh of air-conditioning reminding me that I’m supposed to be in and out of this store. Reminding me that Evan isn’t a part of my to-do list tonight.
“I never said you weren’t my type,” I say and my voice comes out sultry, laced with the desire I feel coursing in my blood. I try to hold his gaze, but the fire and intensity swirling in his dark eyes makes me back down.