Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Damn,” Monroe mutters. “I was hoping he would be there.”
“Do you wish that torture on me?” I ask her. I’m only partially serious about that question. It’s torture to see him and not have him, not that I need to explain that to my best friend. She knows me well enough to understand my meaning.
“You know I don’t,” she counters. “However, I can’t wait to see how he reacts.”
“Roe, we’ve been over this. He’s going to look at me with regret, possibly corner me and threaten me never to speak of that night, or he’s just going to ignore it all.” Including me, but I don’t say that.
“Or, he might want another go? Maybe watching just does it for him.” I can picture her shrugging, her long black curly hair bouncing with the movement.
I hear the front door close and heavy footfalls on the hardwood floors. “Forrest is home. I just got out of the shower, so I’m going to get dressed and go hug my brother.”
“Oh, hug him for me too.” Her tone is sassy and flirty. “Make sure you tell him it’s from me. And if his sexy besties are there, they get a hug from me too, ’K?”
I can’t help but laugh at her. Monroe has flirted with Forrest and his friends for years. She’s not interested in my brother, but she loves to get under his skin. He thinks of her as a second little sister. As far as the rest of the guys, I can’t be sure.
“I’ll leave that up to you. I’m not flirting with my brother for you.”
“What about the others? They’re all fine as hell. I mean, Roman is obviously yours. The whole ‘watch me crank my shaft’ display makes that a given, but the other three are no relation to you, so….” She lets her voice trail off.
“Not flirting with any of them for you.” Especially Roman, but I don’t say that out loud.
“Party pooper,” she retorts. “I was going to ask you to send a picture of that vein that pops out on Forrest’s forehead.”
“That’s all you, Roe, and you know it. That’s an in-person kind of reaction.”
“Fine.” She heaves a heavy sigh. “I’ll just have to do it myself. Not tonight. My mom is already making dinner, and I’m exhausted from the drive.”
We left Kentucky early this morning. We both had cars with us at school, so we did a mini-caravan type of thing. Stopping at all the same stops for gas, food, and bathroom breaks. Forrest was very happy to hear this. He then proceeded to brag about how he taught me well. He’s not just bragging like any big brother would do. Forrest has been a parent to me, more so than our parents. He’s protective, sometimes too much so, but I love him for it. It’s nice to know I have someone in my corner other than my bestie who cares.
“Me too. I plan to talk to Forrest for a few and then crash.”
“Tomorrow?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Night.”
“Night.” Tossing my phone onto my bed, I slip into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. I don’t bother with a bra. Instead, I grab an oversized flannel from my closet and pull it around me to ward off the chill of the air-conditioning. I don’t bother to do anything other than brush out my hair, pull it up in a messy knot, and call it good.
Tearing open my bedroom door, I rush down the stairs. It’s been way too long since I’ve wrapped my arms around my big brother. Before my foot hits the bottom step, I’m calling out for him. “Forrest! Forty!” I add his nickname that only I use. I was irritated at twelve when he kept calling me kid and started calling him Forty, telling him he was old. He hated it, which only made me love it even more.
I hear a noise in the kitchen, so I head in that direction. However, as soon as I pass the threshold, my bare feet skid to a stop. Standing in the kitchen, looking hotter than should be legal, is Roman Bailey.
He stares at me.
I stare at him.
“Emerson.” His voice is deep. Gruff. Sexy as hell.
“Rome.” I manage to find my voice. “Where’s Forrest?”
“He had a client run late. He didn’t want you to come home to an empty house.” He places his hands on the counter. The tattoos on his arms seem to come to life as his muscles flex with his grip.
I can’t help but think about that night. The way his fist gripped his cock. The veins in his arms did a similar dance that night. One might say they put on a show for me while we were putting on a show for each other. And the piercing… damn, I wasn’t expecting that, but it was hot as hell.