Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to pay me,” I say, and I don’t want him to. I don’t want it to feel like they’re his fields and I was just a nobody doing him a favour.
I worked so hard because, just for these few days, it felt like they may be mine too. Like they’re a part of me now.
Like I belong in them.
I take a breath as I notice him swallow. His thumb hovers. And I know where he is. I just know it. He’s reached the end of the gallery, and the selfie I took just a few minutes ago.
His eyes flick from the phone to my open jacket and my soaked cami top. They darken when they meet mine.
“This is a dangerous game to play,” he tells me, and my heart races. I grit my teeth instinctively, because that wasn’t quite the fucking reaction I was hoping for.
“What’s a fucking dangerous game?”
He spins the handset, like I haven’t seen the picture already. But it’s worse than I thought. My top looks even lower than I remember. You can pretty much see the dark circles under my bra.
I look like a slut.
A wet, muddy, filthy little slut.
“Was this for Michael?”
“Of course it wasn’t for fucking Michael,” I sneer. “Michael doesn’t fucking want me, remember?”
“Then who?” he asks. “Who were you going to show this to?”
“No-fucking-one,” I lie.
And just like he usually is, with his calling bullshit on every fucking thing, he looks me straight in the eye, so fierce it fucking burns, and then he says it. He just fucking says it.
“If you wanted me to see your tits, Carrie, you should have just shown me your tits. No need for the theatrics. I’ve seen plenty of them in my time.”
He thinks I’m playing stupid slutty games, and I am.
He thinks I wanted him to see me, and I do.
The self-consciousness burns, and my stomach does a flip, because I do want him to see me. I want him to see me and be as impressed as he was about the fencing. I want him to look at me like he did a few minutes ago when he thought I was amazing.
“You think I took that so you could see my fucking tits?!” I hiss, like he’s well fucking off the mark.
“Didn’t you?”
I shrug. “Don’t give a shit either way. You can look if you want.”
“I wasn’t looking,” he says. “You showed me.”
“I ain’t shown you nothing. Can’t even see my fucking nipples.”
He flips the phone in my direction. “Yes, Carrie, I can see your nipples perfectly well, thank you.” His eyes go straight to my top, and they’re still poking through the fabric. I know they are. My cheeks burn. He hands back my phone, and even though I’m burning up I hate that it’s over.
Jack sips his tea like nothing’s happened, but it has. It has to me.
I’ve nothing to go on but one single second of his first reaction, because he’s been cool as fucking ice for the rest of it. But he swallowed. He swallowed and his eyes widened, just for a second. But it’s enough.
It’s enough to take a chance on.
It’s enough to take a risk on his stupid fucking comment.
So without a word I slip my jacket from my shoulders and tug my straps down. I pull my muddy cami down over my tits and pull my bra down with it. And I stand there, with fierce eyes as Jack takes a step back.
I stare as he stares, nerves dancing as his gaze rests upon my naked tits, nipples still pointy from the cold.
And then I try to come out with some snarky comment. Just like I always do.
Only there isn’t one there.
For the first time ever, my smart mouth stays shut.
Chapter Thirteen
Jack
I should have known by now to expect the unexpected from Carrie Wells. I should have known that my suspicions were right and there was more going on with her than vegging in front of my TV every day, stacking up plates as though she’s been having a one-girl feeding frenzy, even though the fridge is still stocked full.
I should’ve also known better than to tell her she should’ve just shown me her tits if she wanted to, and not contemplated the possibility she would follow through with it.
But here I am, standing open-mouthed as Carrie pulls down her grubby white top and bares her perfect pale tits to me.
She’s confident at first, cocky even. Her shoulders are back and proud as she juts out her sweet rosy nipples.
And I was wrong.
I have seen plenty of tits in my time, but I haven’t seen it all before. I’ve never seen a pair of tits that make my mouth water like this pair.
She has a beauty mark to the side of her right nipple. There’s a smear of mud above her left. And they’re beautiful. Perfect.