Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Oh…Mike. He’s a theater buddy.
Everything inside me loosens as I give him a chin lift in greeting. “Yeah, sure. I didn’t recognize you.”
“Thanks!” He flexes his muscles. “I wasn’t sure if I could pull off the costume.”
“You did. It’s great.”
He grins at Elle. “What do you think of our little Harley Quinn over here? She looks amazing, right?”
Yeah. A little too amazing. I don’t like the way she’s dressed.
All right, that’s not precisely true. I fucking love it. I just don’t want other guys staring at her. And they’re definitely doing that.
Mike chats my ear off for five minutes before disappearing to the kitchen for a refill. The entire time he talks, I can’t take my eyes off Elle. That thin T-shirt and shorts—or sparkly panties—are going to be the death of me. All I want to do is lay my hands on her.
Instead, I clear my throat. “Interesting outfit choice.” My gaze slides down the length of her, eating up every inch of bared flesh on display.
“Thanks.” She preens before doing a little twirl.
I hiss out a sharp breath as my attention falls to her ass. This is bad. It’s a struggle to keep my dick in check. I need to get out of here before all hell breaks loose.
In my jeans.
“So,” I glance around, “did you come here with friends?” All I have to say is that she’d better not be here on her own. If so, I’ll be carrying her damn ass out of this party. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Her brows pinch together as she cranes her neck. “I did, but we ended up getting separated. I’m sure they’ll show up at some point.”
In this fucking crush?
Good luck with that.
Her expression changes, becoming serious, as she tilts her head. “You don’t have to babysit me, Carson. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Maybe.
“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone.” I add the first thing that pops into my brain. “Your brother would kill me.”
Her eyes narrow as her body stiffens. “Brayden needs to chill out and let me enjoy myself every once in a while.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen, and we both know it. If her brother could lock her away in a tower for safekeeping, that’s exactly what he would do. And I can’t blame him for it. Elle is gorgeous. I see the way guys eye her up. Without Brayden beating them away with a stick, she would be inundated with interest, and that, I don’t think I could stand.
The conversation is abruptly cut off when a drunk guy stumbles into us. “Hey, Harley—what do you say we go upstairs so I can rock your world?”
Barely am I able to make out his words as he leers at her. And this is exactly why I won’t be leaving Elle’s side until I find her friends or convince her to get the hell out of here. Preferably the latter.
Instead of responding—because if I do, I’ll likely plow my fist into his face—I grab her hand and drag her through the mass of writhing bodies until I’m able to carve out a small space for the two of us before tugging her into my arms. Her eyes go wide as she stares at me.
“I thought you might want to dance,” I mumble, feeling like a jackass.
“Um, sure.” She slips her arms over my shoulders. “I love busting a move.”
I’m aware. Just like I know everything else about this girl.
In the middle of this mob with the lights turned low, I pull her even closer. We’ve danced a few times in high school, but this feels decidedly different. It doesn’t escape me how perfectly our bodies fit together. Almost as if she were made for me. My arms slip around her ribcage, settling on her back as hers entwine around my neck. With our gazes fastened, we’re like an island onto ourselves. I lose track of how long we stay pressed together as one song bleeds into the next. My breath stalls when she untangles herself and flips around until her back is aligned against my chest. Even though I should put a stop to this madness before it spirals any further out of control, I find myself unable to push her away. Instead, my hands settle around her bare waist, the tips of my fingers grazing the soft skin of her taut belly.
Fuck me. This is absolute torture.
And yet, I want it to last forever.
I want to hold her in the middle of this crush and never let go. The bodies hemming us in along with the music melt away as my hands drift upward, slipping beneath the cotton of her T-shirt to strum over her ribcage until my thumbs are able to rest beneath the silky fabric of her bra. A few inches higher and I would be cupping her breasts.