Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“How many girls have you been with?”
“We’re really doing this? It’s a little early on in the relationship to have the numbers discussion, don’t you think?” His voice is raspy as he speaks, and then a second later, he lets out a cloud of smoke between us. He holds his hand out to me in offering, a brown blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. I shake my head. He shrugs, taking another hit.
“Not in a relationship,” I correct.
“Honest answer? I don’t know.”
“Ballpark.” I look over at him, one arm folded behind his head, the other holding the blunt an inch from his lips, forehead creased in concentration. My eyes have long adjusted to the dark by now, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, but it hits me out of nowhere that Jesse Shepherd is fucking beautiful.
“More than ten. Less than thirty?” He sounds anything but sure, but my stomach twists with unexpected jealousy, so I decide not to push for a more concrete answer. “What about you?”
“Pfft. Way too many to count,” I joke. Jesse chokes, a plume of smoke rushing out of his mouth, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re a liar,” he accuses.
“Nuh-uh. I’ve been with tons of girls.”
“You’re so funny,” he drawls.
“I know.” I feel my smile stretch across my face, but it falls when I notice how he’s looking at me. “What?” I ask defensively.
“I want to try something,” he says.
“Okay…”
“Come here.”
I roll onto my side, heart pounding, but he hooks a finger into the belt loop of my jean shorts, pulling me until I’m straddling him. I brace my hands on his chest, my thighs cradling his torso. His free hand skates up my leg, and my head swims at the feeling.
“You’re cold,” he rasps, his voice sounding thicker than it was a second ago.
“I’m burning up,” I argue. The cold can’t touch me now. Between the lust and the alcohol, I’m on fire. The corner of his lip ticks into an almost-smile.
“You trust me?”
I nod, and then he brings the blunt to his lips once more, taking a long pull. Holding it in, he crooks his finger in a “come here” motion. I know what he wants to do, and with the position he chose, I have to be the one to make the move. Liquid courage fuels my movements as I lean down, my fingers bunching up his hoodie, then I press my lips to his. They’re softer than I remember. He parts them, gently blowing until the smoke fills my mouth. I breathe it in, then pull back, looking down at him as I let it out. His hand tightens on my thigh, and the air is charged as we stare at each other. Jesse swallows hard, and I shift my hips a little lower, feeling how turned on he is through his jeans.
“You trust me?” It’s my turn to ask. Jesse scrapes his teeth along his bottom lip as he flexes his hips upward, then nods. I bring both hands to either side of his face tentatively before lowering my mouth to his once more. When my tongue peeks out and flicks into his mouth, Jesse groans, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck to deepen the kiss.
All pretenses and inhibitions go out the window as our tongues slide together, my pulse beating wildly in my neck. Jesse’s hand starts to tremble, and for some reason, I find it endearing. Like maybe he’s just as affected as me. The tightening between my legs becomes almost unbearable, and I shift my hips, trying to assuage the feeling.
“Fuck,” Jesse groans into my mouth. I pull back, lifting the hem of my shirt, but Jesse’s hand covers mine, stopping me. His nostrils flare, eyes hard. He looks like he’s in pain. “Stop.” His voice is curt, but his thumb circles my exposed navel, as if to soften the blow of his harsh words.
My jaw goes slack when I realize he’s rejecting me for a second time. I scoff bitterly, letting my shirt fall back into place before pushing his hand away roughly. “Unbelievable.” I lift my leg, rolling off of him, then make quick work of putting my Docs back on.
“Allie—”
“Don’t talk to me.”
Jesse rolls his eyes, shaking his head as if I’m simply being a petulant child. From the corner of my eye, I see him lift his hoodie over his head a second before it lands on my head. I fling it off me onto the sand. Might as well play the part.
“Put it on.”
“No.”
“Goddammit, Allie. Wear the fucking sweatshirt.”
The temperature has dropped since we’ve been out here, but the chill I feel has absolutely nothing to do with the weather. Jesse bends over to retrieve the sweatshirt before he takes matters into his own hands and pulls it over my head. When I realize he’s going to try to dress me like a toddler if I don’t comply, I reluctantly shove my arms through and then stand.