Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when he said he was desperate. Desperate in a very, very appealing way. His hands gripped against the front of my shirt, then met the sides of my body and my hips as he tried to pull himself as close as possible to me. He hummed a lurid, delicious sound against my lips, something between a sigh and a moan, and his smaller body fit against me perfectly.
Good lord, I could enjoy this. I could enjoy this far too much.
And I really, really needed to stop, sooner rather than later. I had meant what I said about never, ever wanting to take advantage of drunk strangers, no matter if they were women or men. If anybody was going to hook up with me, I wanted them to be sure of it.
I let my tongue slide against his for one more aching moment before I pulled away, my whole body screaming out for me to dive back in.
He pushed his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back, looking up at me with half-lidded, beautiful eyes. As he moved, stumbled a little again. I caught him easily and he looked up at me again.
“Shameful,” he said, clicking his tongue. “I’m not usually this sloppy, I swear.”
“You just need water when you get home,” I said, releasing him before I ended up doing something stupid.
My head was spinning like a compass with a fucked-up magnet. I kept feeling like I shouldn’t have done what I’d just done, but it had been good.
Really good.
Good enough that I was pretty sure I’d just confirmed, without a doubt, that I didn’t give a fuck what somebody’s gender was as long as they kissed me like that.
But now I had one mission this evening, and it was to get this man home safe.
“For somebody who doesn’t do that kind of thing, you sure as hell are good at it,” he said, sucking his lower lip into his mouth for a moment. “Jesus Christ, you made me hard as a fucking rock.”
I could tell that he had enjoyed the kiss, but hearing him say that almost made me dive right back in toward him again.
“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one,” I managed to say.
“I’d call you a tease,” he told me, “but I actually think it’s sweet that you won’t hook up with my drunk ass.”
“I would have, you know,” I said.
“Would have what?”
I cleared my throat, my heart pounding a little harder in my chest. “Dragged you home. If things were… different.”
Shit. Wow. I was really saying it. I was telling a guy what I wanted to do with him, and for once, I wasn’t stopping myself.
“But you don’t do that kind of thing,” he said, “with drunk strangers.” He was blinking heavily now, and from his body language, it was obvious how exhausted he was. He looked like he’d been exhausted for weeks, actually.
“I’m going to get you home safe and sound,” I told him softly, trying to control myself and let him have a moment of peace. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll be glad for it.”
Finally, we got into my truck. I drove him home without fanfare, with him guiding me through the dark country roads up to a house that looked like it was having some major renovations done.
I parked in front and he got out slowly, clearly still hazy and half-asleep. I grabbed an old receipt in my driver’s side door before hopping out and heading to the bed of the truck, swinging open my old, beat-up tool chest that I always kept in the back. I fished out a crappy ballpoint pen and scrawled out my phone number on the back of the receipt.
“Text or call tomorrow morning to let me know you made it through the night, got it?” I said as I folded up the receipt and pushed it into Theo’s hand.
“If you wanted to give me your number, you could have just said so,” he said with a sly smile.
“Just let me know you’re okay in the morning,” I said. “Or else I’ll worry about you. You can delete my number afterward, and I’ll delete yours.”
“I sure hope not,” he said as he walked off. I was pretty certain I’d never hear from him again, but I had to at least try.
“Water,” I called after him, hoping to God he’d at least chug one glass. “Take care of yourself, Theo.”
Whoever the hell you are.
2
Theo
Another morning, another hangover, another rude awakening to the sound of power drills and the loudest hammering I’d ever heard in my life.
“Computer, call Madeline,” I croaked, peeking out from under my down comforter and squinting in the sunlight.
The speakers in my bedroom rang out for two rings before Madeline answered, perky as ever.
“Theo! You’re finally up,” my assistant’s voice came through the surround sound system. “Where were you last night?”