Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
It’s perplexing how we’ve reached this point, but I suspect some dumbassery on my part. We agreed to keep things casual, just friends with benefits. I mean, who the fuck doesn’t love that?
But we’re not exactly taking advantage of it.
I didn’t see her after the Ottawa game three nights ago because I was feeling hemmed in and then she claimed she had plans the next day. I said I had plans the next night and everything just shifted out of whack.
Instead of feeling more grounded and in control by pulling back, it feels like everything is spinning wildly. The biggest spiral I have going on right this very moment as I lie in this bed staring at my ceiling is a very fucking inconvenient need to see Kiera and ask her what in the hell has happened to us. Maybe she’ll have some clarity.
I glance at my phone, hoping for a message from her, but there’s nothing. She said she had plans today, although she didn’t give me a single detail. What we do outside the bedroom is irrelevant, right? We’re fuck buddies and we don’t share those types of things with one another.
Christ… I really want to know what she’s doing today because I would like to see her. To do what, I don’t know. Ideally, it would be to fuck, but things are weird now, so I’m thinking we might need to talk.
Against my better judgment, I make a spontaneous decision. I’m going to her place, uninvited, hoping she’s there. It’s still early—only half past eight—and hopefully her plans for the day haven’t taken her from her house yet.
I roll out of bed, slam a cup of coffee and take a quick shower. I bundle up extra warm because it’s supposed to snow. The heavy precipitation won’t roll in until tonight, but I’m ready in my thick coat, gloves and knit hat if it starts now.
I arrive at Kiera’s doorstep, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Before things got so off-kilter, I’d normally show up at her door and she’d welcome me with open arms and open legs. I’d whisk her off to bed.
Or a couch.
Or bend her over a counter.
It was all raging hormones and blistering sex, both of us nearly going up in flames every time we were together. It was the perfect relationship, really, and now it’s all messed up.
I ring the doorbell, wondering how Kiera will respond to me if I just haul her in for a deep kiss. Unfortunately, my confidence and swagger—born of the truth that I know how to make her scream—seems to have taken a hit.
Christ… what am I doing? This is all wrong.
I just about resolve to leave when she opens the door, surprise etched across her face. “What are you doing here?”
Before I answer, I take a good, long look at Kiera. It’s been four days since I’ve seen her and I’m not sure how it’s possible—maybe four days of absence and yearning—but she looks a million times more beautiful.
Her blond hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and her face is free of makeup. She’s wearing worn jeans, a long-sleeve Henley and fuzzy socks. In one hand, she holds a red velvet bow.
My eyes move to lock on hers and I try to be as honest as I can. “I have no clue why I’m here. I just wanted to see you.”
Confusion radiates from her gaze, a reflection of my tangled thoughts. Our relationship has been confined to mutual physical attraction and pleasure. While we’ve labeled ourselves friends, we’ve never acted the part before. Now everything has become inscrutably more complex and I feel like I’m on uneven ground. I think she’s feeling the same if her expression is any indication.
“Oh,” she murmurs, looking more unsure of herself than I feel on the inside. She steps back and motions with her arm. “Want to come in?”
Yes, I do. I want to grab her, kiss her, strip her naked and worship her body. But again… things are a bit off.
“Sure,” I say and cross her threshold. I wasn’t invited to stay, but I take off my coat, gloves and hat, tossing them on the back of her couch. I glance down at the bow in her hand. “I don’t think that will look good with your outfit.”
Kiera’s dimples pop and some tension releases from my shoulders because I’m still able to charm her, even if just a little. “I’m packing up my Christmas decorations. I have an insane amount of red velvet bows all over the house.”
These are her plans for the day? To put away decorations?
On impulse, I blurt, “Can I help?”
She laughs, her disbelief evident. “You want to help?”
“Yeah… why not?” I challenge. I don’t have a good answer to why I’m here, asking to spend some non-sexual time with her, but I can’t deny the desire to be in her presence if that’s all I can have at this moment.