Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I pull it out. It’s not too wrinkled, and there’s an iron I saw by the door that I could use to fix it up.
I second-guess my choice and look back at my clothes.
Shit.
I reach for my phone and find Larissa’s number.
“Hey,” she answers immediately. Her voice is bright and cherry. “What’s happening, handsome?”
I look at myself in the mirror and laugh.
I’m such a tool.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head at how stupid I’m acting. “I have a question.”
“Finally!”
I snort.
She laughs. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Go for it.”
“Can I wear jeans to this thing?”
She bursts out laughing. “Clearly, you haven’t seen your ass in jeans, or you wouldn’t be asking me this question.”
Her flattery feels good, which is weird because it’s usually unwanted. But, coming from her, it feels like it means something. It feels … honest.
“So that’s a yes?” I ask.
“Yes. You can come in anything you want, and it’ll be fine. I promise.”
I walk to the window.
I haven’t seen her since I left her house this morning and I both love and hate the way I feel about it. She had to go help put the finishing touches on the party, which I understand. But I’m bored.
And I miss her.
That does not bode well for me, I know.
But instead of focusing on that, I’m trying to roll with it. Enjoy it. Enjoy her.
“Did everything go okay today at your aunt’s?” I ask
“I just got home to get ready.”
“Should it take you long?”
“No. I picked everything out this morning after you left.”
I grin. “What do you have to do? Shower and get dressed?”
The thought of her naked and wet sets my blood aflame. I adjust my cock, groaning at the contact.
“Yeah. It shouldn’t take me long,” she says.
I glance at the clock again and do some quick math.
“What time do you have to be there?” I ask her.
“Let’s see, it’s six now,” she says. “Everyone will show up around eight or eight thirty, I bet. As long as I’m there by nine, it’ll be fine. What time are you planning on going?”
I grab jeans, shirt, and keys and head for the door. “Right now.”
“Already?”
“Look,” I say, opening the hotel room door and walking into the hallway, “if you’re planning on being in the shower and I’m just here by myself—”
“I’ll go unlock the door.”
I laugh. “That’s my girl.”
And I might just mean that. Maybe.
Nineteen
Hollis
“I hate wet hair,” Larissa says as she climbs into bed next to me.
I slide an arm under her and pull her into my body. She curls up next to me and smiles against my chest.
“Wet anything on you is good, beautiful,” I tell her.
She hums against me as her eyes flutter closed.
I settle back into her pillows and close my eyes too.
I could get used to this.
The words rattle through my brain.
My eyes open, and I feel the burst of energy that always comes when I get too comfortable in a situation. I learned in a football lecture once that the shock of energy is my Fight or Flight instinct. It happens when you feel like your life might be in danger.
I catch my breath before it gets out of control and settle myself.
You are fine. You are good.
I look down at Riss.
You are more than good.
I run my fingers through her hair. She’s so attractive. But the thing I see when I look at her isn’t her beauty at first. It’s the aura around her, the genuineness that exudes out of her pores. It’s her bright smile and the way she reaches for me like she wants to be as close as she can to me.
Like now.
A warmth spreads through my body, and I pull her closer.
This whole thing blindsided me. When I came here, I expected to spend my days sitting on the beach or checking out the tourist traps. Never in a million years did I expect to be lying in a woman’s bed.
And acknowledging that I don’t want to leave.
I sigh, closing my eyes and trying to slow myself down.
This thing between us happened so fast—like a tornado in the summer.
Could this thing actually work out between us?
I want to laugh at myself—at the possibility that Larissa Mason would want anything to do with me for an extended time. Why would she?
But the way she feels in my arms and the way she looks at me gives me a little … hope.
I don’t even know if it’s safe to hope. Every time I’ve wished for something, it bit me in the ass. The last time I almost believed that things were going to work out, I watched Philip and Kim’s car pull down the street without me.
Maybe this could be different? Maybe my luck has somehow changed? Perhaps I’m not the same person I was, and my past won’t follow me now.