Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
I shake my head, pretending not to be upset. The truth is, hearing her talk like this is annoying. It’s also the reason I need to listen to her. She’s always been the voice of reason.
“He kissed his best friend’s sister when his friend was in the same house,” Gwen goes on. “That’s player behavior.”
“He’s not a player,” I snap.
“How do you know that?”
I don’t have a good response. It’s not like I’ve been watching him on the East Coast, and he doesn’t have a big public presence. He could easily hide his playboy tendencies behind closed doors.
“I don’t,” I admit begrudgingly, “but we’re going to see each other again. He’s not just never going to visit Paul. What if he tries to kiss me again? What if he wants to take it further?”
“Do you think you can resist him?” Gwen asks me.
There’s no point trying to lie to her. “No.”
“Then do your best not to be alone with him until you know you’re not just another notch on his belt.”
It’s sound advice. It’s advice I should listen to. Yet this hunger in me doesn’t want to hear that. This hunger wants to return to the kiss, but this time, go further. I’ll ignore my doubts and nerves, throw myself at him, and give myself to him completely.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kaleb
Whenever something incredible, tragic, or shocking happens in my life, I usually talk to Paul about it. If I were ever going to find a lady, Paul would be the first person to hear about it. I’d ask him for advice or at least let him know, but now I’m alone. I can’t tell my best friend a goddamn thing.
What’s the matter with me? We’re sitting side by side on a couch, and I just grab her leg like a freak? Like a pervert, I’m feeling up my friend’s sister, who is nineteen years old and probably has no clue what she wants to do with her romantic life. Maybe she’s had a couple of boyfriends, but she’s not ready to make that decision, that betrayal.
I can still taste her on my lips. My body is still full of tension. Maybe I should fly back to the East Coast. It’s not as if Paul’s life is in danger. He’s miserable, unable to exercise, but I’ve done more than many men would. Could I do that? Abandon him? Abandon her?
My cell phone rings as I drive down the highway. I get déjà vu, but it’s Paul this time, not Tyrone. I almost don’t answer. How am I supposed to talk to him after what I just did?
But ignoring him makes me feel like a cold bastard. Anyway, what if it’s about Sophie?
“Hey, bro,” Paul says when I answer.
Bro. I usually wouldn’t react at all to him calling me this. He’s said it countless times, but there’s an extra edge to it now. I can’t be his bro. That would make Sophie my… Nope, I can’t even go there.
“Kaleb?” he says.
“Hey, yeah, what’s up?”
“Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“No,” I say, trying to sound more upbeat. “I’m good. What’s up, man?”
“Just wanted to say thank you for everything. Realized I didn’t say it earlier.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I tell him, a pit of pure pain opening in my gut.
“It means a lot, the fact you flew out here. I’m almost glad I fucked my leg up if it means dragging your ass back to the West Coast.”
I try to laugh. Hopefully, through the phone, Paul can’t tell how fake it sounds. “Just don’t mess up the other one if I have to leave.”
He answers sharply. “You’re leaving?”
I can hear the pain in his voice. If I told him yes, he would accept it. He wouldn’t argue with me or try to convince me to stay, but that’s part of being his best friend. He doesn’t need to explain for me to understand what he wants, and he wants me to stay.
“No,” I reply. “I was speaking hypothetically. You’re not getting rid of me yet.”
“Awesome, yeah. Awesome.” He sounds so happy. I’m a monster. “I think Sophie’s happy you’re here too, honestly.”
I almost tear the steering wheel loose. Almost turn into the concrete separating oncoming and incoming traffic. Anything so I don’t have to speak about Sophie with him, after the kiss, after her curvy, thick hips in my hands where they belong. Fuck. Fuck. She’s mine. I can’t fight it, but I must.
“Oh yeah?” I say.
“She doesn’t have to try to cheer up my grumpy ass herself. Speaking of Sophie…”
He pauses, giving my thoughts a lot of time to torture me. Maybe she told him what happened. I know he’s your friend, but you need to know. The creep grabbed my leg like an unhinged beast and then pushed me against the wall and kissed me.