Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Or so she claims.
She throws up her hands, her nose wrinkling in the cutest little way. If she weren’t so terrifying, I’d want to cuddle her like a cat, but this one has claws that could shred me to pieces. “You don’t know the first thing about being in love, so how can you decide if it’d help your game or not?”
“Like I said, I am in control of my game.”
She gives me a bored look. “So you say.”
We both know what she’s saying, but I don’t give in. “I do because no female has been able to make me want more than anything physical.”
Until n— Oh, hell no.
I’m about to slap sense into myself just as she snorts. “How could they, when you only give them a chance to suck your cock before you’re out the door?” She laughs. “Or God forbid they don’t suck your cock right, because then you’re kicking them out.”
I eye her. “I have a feeling you know more about me than you’re letting on.”
She gives me a dry look. “All my roommates sucked you off. But Grace P., she used too much teeth, and you weren’t feeling that.”
When she snaps her white teeth at me like a vampire, I take a step back. I bring my brows in, not remembering this or who the hell Grace P. is. “When was this?”
She rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure, it does, because I don’t remember that.”
She gives me a long look, one I feel all over before she mutters, “Freshman year, around March.”
I press my lips together, trying to hold back my grimace. Quietly, I admit, “I wasn’t the best version of myself that year. I was confused and drinking a lot.”
“Yeah, you sure were drunk,” she says, and something about the way she says that has a memory coming to me.
I don’t remember much, but I remember the beanbag, the way her hair curled along her shoulders, and her whiskey eyes.
And…
I tilt my head. “She was mean to you.”
The gorgeous girl in front of me looks away, shrugging. I can see the flush along her cheeks. “It didn’t matter.”
“It did. She called you names, when you were way hotter than her.” Her gaze whips to mine, narrowing as she searches my eyes. “And I mean that. I’m not saying that to be nice.” I remember saying that—or something along those lines. She presses her lips together, unsure how to take that. Needing her to know, I say, “I don’t drink anymore. Haven’t since that year, actually.”
She nods slowly. “That’s awesome, but that doesn’t change the fact that I saw you in the act, firsthand. Have you tanned your ass?”
I snort. “Nope. Whitest ass ever, according to my teammates.”
She grins, even if she doesn’t want to. “It was whiter than the moon.”
I lick my lips. “I’m not that guy anymore.”
She gives me a dry look. “Why are you lying? Everyone knows that Dawson Sinclair gets around.”
I mean, she’s not wrong. I’m not nearly as bad as I was, but that’s because it’s getting tedious. I’m tired of the same thing.
She sucks my cock.
I might eat her out.
I leave.
There is no connection. No smiles. No touching.
Not from lack of trying on their part, but I won’t allow it.
I don’t want to get distracted, yet here I am.
I lick my lips again, my gaze challenging hers. “Are you slut-shaming me?”
Ambrosia grins in that way that has my cock thickening at the sight. “You don’t deny it?”
“Nope, and all the girls I’ve been with know the score before we even do anything.”
She claps slowly, giving me a mock look of awe. “Oh my goodness, how kind of you.”
I can’t help but grin. “Hey, I’m nothing if not respectful.”
“I’m sure the female gender is so thankful for that.”
Her bored look is sexy, and I want more.
“They are,” I tease. “Especially when my mouth is between their legs.”
The look of pure disdain makes me harder. “I knew I smelled something fishy.”
I choke on air. Then I bark out a laugh as I shake my head. “Wow, you’re something.”
She doesn’t seem the least bit concerned with me. “I don’t care what you think of me or even what you do. Your personal life is all yours, hotshot.”
I bring up my brows in confusion. “Hotshot?”
“Oh yeah,” she says, all full of herself. “I can’t call you a playboy since all the girls you’re with know the score, and you’re so respectful. So…hotshot.”
“But you wanted to call me a playboy?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “No. I wanted to call you a manwhore, but I really want your parents on my podcast, so I refrained.”
My skin breaks out in gooseflesh as my stomach swoops. What is this girl doing to me?
Damn, she’s fun.
“You don’t hold back, huh?”
“Not for a person I don’t know, don’t care to know, and who has the audacity to take shits on my theory when you have no basis for your way of thinking.”