Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
But I’m not going to suck her nipple into my mouth. I’m going to get out of here before I do something stupid like agree to this crazy plan.
Because it would be crazy. Starling might not be worried about getting emotionally involved, but I sure as hell am.
Knowing I’m the first man to touch her everywhere, to make her come, the first man to spread her thighs and push inside her…it’ll make this longing I feel when I’m with her even worse. And the last thing I need is to fall head over heels for a girl who’s just looking to fuck and run. Especially when I know for a fact, I’ll keep running into this girl again and again for the rest of my life.
Barrett and Wren are forever, which means my connection to Starling is forever, which means, “No.”
Her brows shoot up. “No? Oh, come on, that was good dirty talk!”
“The dirty talk was fine, but I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I take a step back. “It’s too complicated with work and family and…all the rest of it.”
She frowns. “All the rest of what?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “But good luck. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to help you out. You’re gorgeous and funny and easy to be with. All things guys like. I gotta run before Matty’s turn. I promised I’d film his runs so he could work on his form, then I have to work the feast with Melissa, so…”
Letting my words trail away, I turn and bolt.
Before I get sucked into her sad eyes.
Before I change my mind.
Before I think too much about Starling finding another sex mentor and how absolutely livid the thought makes me.
I already want to punch that guy in the face and the nuts and everywhere in between, proving I made the right call. I’ve rarely been this irrationally angry, especially at a person who doesn’t exist.
At least not yet…
I wasn’t lying when I said I was sure Starling would find someone great to help her out. She’s the entire package—kind, fun, easy to talk to, and stunning. Absolutely stunning. Even in jeans and a t-shirt on a low-key day at the office, she’s a head turner.
In that dress, she’s the stuff kinky medieval dreams are made of.
But luckily for me, she’ll need time to pick a new potential mentor.
Starling’s suggestion that we get naked and have a good time might have been the result of a few tequila shots, but I know her too well to think the proposition came out of nowhere. Starling isn’t a seat-of-the-pants girl. She might have texted because she was tipsy, but I’d bet my right hand she’s been thinking about the possibility of us having something casual for a while now.
It’ll take at least a few weeks for her to home in on another candidate, and by then I’ll be too busy packing for my move to get upset about it. Then, I’ll be hundreds of miles away and so consumed with my new job that I won’t have time for vivid fantasies of punching the guy’s teeth out.
Certain I’m correct, I do my best to put Starling out of my mind and concentrate on filming Matty’s joust, but it isn’t easy.
When she joins Nora in the front row of the bleachers, I have to fight to keep my gaze fixed on my brother. And when Matty wins his joust and rides past Nora and Starling to accept the roses they toss out to congratulate him, it takes all my self-control to keep from rushing over there and telling him to get the hell away from them.
Both of them.
Just in case.
Logically, I know Starling would never go after a man her friend was interested in—or my brother—but the irrational, possessive, irate-that-I-said-no-to-getting-Starling-in-the-sack part of me isn’t interested in logic. It’s pissed off and itching for a fight.
So, when I corner Matty in the stables after the tournament with our brother Wes’s horse Marisol, my tone goes from reasonable to fuck-around-and-find-out in a matter of seconds. “You did a good job. I sent the videos to your phone. Oh, and stay away from Nora. She’s got enough on her plate running a business and taking care of her grandmother all by herself while her brother pretends he’s actually got a shot at the NHL. She doesn’t need your brand of bullshit.”
“Hey, woah, slow down.” Inside the stall, Matty lifts his hands at his sides, Marisol’s curry brush still in hand. “What about Nora? Did she say something? About me? Is she…interested?”
“No, she’s not,” I say, though I have no idea whether or not that’s true. “Or she wouldn’t be if she knew you’re just killing time until you can make a run for the border.”
Matty scowls. “You make me sound like a fugitive from justice.”