Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Without missing a beat, he leans over me, all hooded eyes and full lips and whispers my name again. “Charlie.”
I don’t want him to stop. Speaking. Ever.
Like, ever.
I lick my lower lip, nodding. “Yes.”
His eyes glint with something wicked as he leans in, his breath brushing my ear.
“I checked it twice.”
“Huh?”
“Is it so hard…” his voice drops, velvety and dangerous. “…to be nice?”
“C-come again?” I whisper uncertainly. “What did you check?”
His eyes twinkle with some kind of magic light I’ve never seen in my life. Seriously. His eyes twinkle and it’s not the piss poor lighting in the buggy.
“The list.”
What in God’s name is he talking about? What list? I’m on a list? Is it the poor list? The list of people’s names who can’t afford this trip? I can’t be the only one… I mean Ellie looks like she’s slept her way into this buggy— so that means she can’t be super rich? But honestly, even if I am on the poor list, I don’t care. I’m part of a list I’ll own whole heartedly.
The other thing is this—I realize Stetson doesn’t have to make any sense. He’s too hot for that. He just needs to exist. Walk around in that kind of outfit he has on. Stop polar bears in their tracks. Flex his muscles. Breathe. And everything else is fine.
His electric blue gaze drops to my lips, and he stares so hard my mouth starts to water. As for the other parts of me, I couldn’t even stop what’s happening down south if I tried.
This. Is. Crazy.
“That’s better.” He looks satisfied. Like he can sense I’m so turned on I might orgasm if he just rubs my little pinky finger.
He suddenly turns. “Should we toast surviving the elements?”
Everyone shouts in agreement while I inwardly celebrate surviving something else for the past thirty seconds.
Him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Three minutes later Stetson is sprawled out in the seat Devon had been in like he owns the damn buggy. He’s now king of the castle… or buggy, and it suits him just fine.
His energy literally takes up every inch of oxygen in the room and I feel like we were already running low on that before he stepped in.
I’m not complaining. Let him have all the air—let me die in peace just staring at him suck it dry.
He’s taken off his super suit and is only wearing a white-button-down long-sleeved-thermal-tight-as-fuck shirt with the kind of jeans that match his name.
Perfectly.
Just like his face, his body isn’t average either.
He’s so hot it should be outlawed. No wonder the female (Jayson confirmed my theory) polar bear bowed meekly before him—I know what happened…she fell in love! She took one look at this man whose ruggedly handsome awesomeness is out of this freaking world, and she was a goner and she’s a different species! Just saying. What hope do human females have at this point?
“You need to close your mouth and touch some grass, but since we don’t have any considering it’s the arctic, might I suggest deep breaths or gnawing on a stick or something to get that sexual tension out,” Grace whispers to me under her breath. “If you don’t stop being so obvious he’s going to know.”
I’m not even embarrassed by the inappropriate way I’m staring.
I should be.
But I’m not the only one who wants a piece of Stetson.
The women and even the guys are in awe of him…
His arms are so sinewy and muscular it looks like he spends hours in the gym. His chest is broad, perfectly muscular—how do I know it’s perfect? Because of the way it fills out that white thermal long-sleeved shirt he has on like he should be modeling for some masculine outdoorsy brand. His legs are thick and long… and goddammit, they’re perfect! And let’s not even go there about his hands–I’ve been staring at those from the moment he sat down. They’re the kind you want to feel all over your body. Big, strong, perfectly shaped fingers and they look like they’ve done some real kind of man work, not just paper pushing, the kind that knows how to grip the hell out of you, grab you by the ass and squeeze while he plunges so deep…
Oh my fuck.
I need a cold shower.
Immediately. Something to make this fantasy sex tundra I’m in stop.
“Jesus,” Grace mutters. “You’re sweating...”
“No. I. Am. Not,” I say back with some fury.
“Facts on God.”
Great. I’m sweating. In the Arctic. I would be that person. Something does feel off though about my body temperature—my lewd thoughts about my very physical reaction to another human being.
“I can’t stop it,” I whisper under my breath—but they don’t sound like words coming out of me… it sounds more like a moan..
Grace curses and I zero in on Stetson again. I try to focus on other things about him… like something bad.