Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Will may have ruined his own life by selling drugs, but my consequences are my own. It’s taken months in therapy for me to accept it.
As I press the ignition switch on my car, my eyes dart back to the closed door leading into the house. I’m not going to complain to my parents about the guy asleep on the couch if it means I get a little time to myself, but knowing he isn’t going to chase me makes this seem pointless.
I should just go back inside, but a milkshake sounds like a good idea. Maybe he’ll wake up and notice I’m gone and the real fun will begin.
After pressing the button for the garage door, I check my phone to make sure the ringer is turned on. Making a mental bet that he calls within fifteen minutes, I glance in the rearview mirror to back out and scream.
Blue eyes stare back at me. A sexy mouth turned down in a frown.
My hand flies to my chest, but I can’t seem to break eye contact with him. He doesn’t say a word as I stare at him, realizing for the first time just how similar to Henry Cavill he looks. Dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, a tilt to his head that just reads trouble and challenge.
Unable to resist any longer, I spin my head around and stare at him. Jesus, how did I miss the fact that he was on my couch in lounge pants and a fitted t-shirt? If I had noticed them sooner, I would’ve joined him on the couch and drooled over him until he woke up because I made things awkward.
“Get out of my car,” I hiss, when really I could spend the rest of the night content to just log every sexy feature of his face.
God, I’ve flirted and tried to seduce every man my parents hired to watch me, but never before did any of them fluster me the way this guy does.
He doesn’t move, nor does he speak. With arms crossed over his chest, he leans back against the seat, his eyes never leaving mine. From the sight of the middle seatbelt of the car snapped around his waist, I realize he’s prepared to go anywhere I do. His hulking form in the back makes the entire car feel closed-in. The scent of him chooses now to invade my senses, and unbidden, my throat works on a swallow. He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t wink to let me know that he’s aware that he’s affecting me, but I can see it in his eyes. He knows I’m not unaffected, unlike how I know he is by me. I mean, maybe he’s gay like Phillip. Maybe he didn’t scan my body or focus on my tits earlier because I don’t do it for him.
There goes that conceited voice in my head trying to convince me that I’m God’s damned gift to all men.
I make a mental note to schedule an emergency session with my therapist because I no longer want to be the same vapid girl I so readily complain about.
Mimicking his position, I cross my arms over my chest and snarl, “Get. Out.”
A look of boredom crosses his face, but he doesn’t move or speak.
Repositioning myself and putting on my own seatbelt, I back out of the garage. There are many times I’d give up and go back in, but I know the thought of a mint chocolate chip milkshake will never leave my thoughts.
Forty minutes later while I’m sitting across from him in a booth at my favorite dessert shop, I catch him watching my mouth for a split second while I enjoy my drink. It’s then that I understand just how much fun it’s going to be making Flynn Coleman chase me all over the city.
Chapter 3
Flynn
“So you want more cameras?”
The humor in Wren’s voice doesn’t match my own sour mood. After a drive into the city that I thought was going to end with me dying in a fiery death, I was forced to sit across from Remington while she sipped on a milkshake. I don’t know if she was trying to be so enticing, but just a drop of ice cream on her lips was enough to get me riled up.
We went home immediately after, but sleep was impossible. Not because I was worried she was going to try to leave without me again. She had me drive us back—something I was grateful for—while she slept in the backseat. She was bone tired dragging herself up to her room, and I knew she was in for the night.
It was the sinful images of her infiltrating my head that kept me from falling asleep. It was disgust over what I suspected her stepdad of doing that took over next.
“You’re not listening to me,” I grumble, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.