Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“You can’t go. You had two glasses of wine. It wouldn’t be safe for you to drive.” He protests.
I’m not tipsy and we both know it. “Fine. Then you drive me home.”
He reaches and touches his hip. “I would but I was recently hit by a car, didn’t you hear?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Then what do you suggest?”
“Hmm…” He strokes his beard in that way I love. There’s a twinkle in his eye when he says, “I reckon you could spend the night. Better to stay over than risk driving intoxicated.”
My heart leaps at the thought of spending the night here with Zac. “I guess I could do that. But no hanky-panky, Mr. Sexy Bull Rider.”
He laughs. “Hanky-panky, really?”
My cheeks flame. “What else am I supposed to say?”
“Sex, Dotty. As in your boyfriend wants to have sex with you.” His eyes are so dark and there’s that charming smirk back on his face. How can he be so handsome?
“You’re not really my boyfriend,” I remind him softly — though really, I’m reminding myself.
“You’re the only one that doesn’t think this is real,” he growls. Why is it so sexy when he growls at me?
“Since I’m half the couple in question, I think my opinion matters, too.” I pretend to pout.
“Then do you want to have sex with your not-so-fake boyfriend?” He waggles his thick brows.
I didn’t think my cheeks could get any warmer, but they do. I could bake cookies on my face, it’s so hot. “No, absolutely not.”
He’s still smirking at me, damn him. “Sure, sweetheart. Keep saying that, but only one of us believes you, and it ain’t me.” He stands and holds out his hand.
“What are you doing?”
He continues holding out his hand until finally I stand and put my hand in his. He tugs me close. I’m still wearing my professional heels and he’s barefoot and still so much taller than me.
He brushes a kiss across my forehead before trailing lower, kissing my eyelids one by one, my cheeks and chin and jaw, then finally, his lips are on mine. Electricity jolts through my system the same way it did when we were making out in the woods.
I gasp and grab his shirt, pulling him closer. His hands on my hips are anchoring me against his body and I can feel his hardness through our clothes. I groan and grind against him.
When I’m certain that I’m about to explode from need, he pulls away. He stares down at me, lust and amusement dancing on his face. “You’re a great interviewer, but a terrible liar, Dotty.”
Then without another word, he ushers me into his bedroom.
“I can’t sleep here,” I complain. Not with my body so aroused. “It’s your bedroom.”
“A bedroom is typically where people sleep,” he quips.
“But this one is yours. I’ll take the couch.”
“The hell you will,” he prowls toward me with a feral look on his face. “You’re mine now. That means I sleep where you sleep and that tiny couch ain’t big enough for my bulky ass.”
“I happen to like your ass,” I mumble, wondering what they’ve said about his body on social media. All this time I’ve been focused on the pressure and stress I feel, and he’s been living under that microscope for years.
“That’s real good, darlin’, because I happen to love yours too,” he winks at me. “Now get your cute one in my bed before I have to spank it.”
“You wouldn’t,” I scowl at him even as my breathing hitches. I can’t deny that the mental image of Zac bending me over and turning my ass pink with his hand makes moisture gush into my panties.
He arches an eyebrow. “Do you want to find out?”
“No!” I scurry to his dresser and grab a white t-shirt from it. “Turn around.”
He shakes his head and crosses his arms.
I blow out a breath and figure showing him my body is the quickest way to douse his attraction to me. Maybe then we can both be normal around each other. Maybe if his interest in me goes away, I won’t feel so drawn to him.
I peel my shirt from my body, keeping my eyes on the floor. I will not look at him. I will not see the disgust on his face.
But he makes a noise. It’s a sharp intake of breath that has me freezing. I wait for him to tell me that I’m hideous, that my curves are disgusting.
But instead, he stalks across the room. He stands in front of me and puts a hand under my chin, raising my face to his. What I see there shocks me. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown. His nostrils are flared, and he looks like he’s one second from having his control snap.
With his other hand, he grabs mine and presses it to the center of his jeans. “Don’t you listen to the voices in your head calling you ugly. This is what you do to your man. This is how horny you make him.”