Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Once in the shower stall, my bag and clothes on the chair off in the corner so it wouldn’t get wet, I cranked on the water and turned it to frigid. I hoped it would help tame my arousal, but not even the coldness could bring me down.
I wanted to just say fuck it and confront Delilah. I wanted to tell her how I felt. I chanced scaring her off, because what I felt for her couldn’t be called anything but consuming.
I loved her, was so in love with her that it was unlike anything I could have imagined for myself. And being rough around the edges with her, getting under her skin, seeing that flair of annoyance come from her, that fiery passion in her eyes, turned me on so fucking much.
I was hard whenever she was near. God. She didn’t even have to be around for me to be rock-solid. Just thinking about her—like right now—made me achy for her.
I closed my eyes and breathed out. I could tell her everything as early as tonight, what with her parents being gone and Aiden going to that party. I talked to him earlier, and he went on about going balls to the wall, which meant he’d crash there.
Delilah would be home alone. I could talk to her in private in her own space, where she felt comfortable.
I opened my eyes and stared at the white tile in front of me. Yeah. Tonight. I didn’t know if I was reading the signs from her wrong, that the looks she gave me, the way she flushed when I complimented her, or her body language had nothing to do with her attraction toward me.
But I was willing to risk it, because she needed to know how I felt.
6
Delilah
I couldn’t remember the last time I had the house to myself. It was a little unnerving knowing no one else was here, feeling the weight of that emptiness settling around me. But it also felt like I could breathe.
Aiden left for the frat party a couple of hours ago and had sent me a text saying he was just crashing there if I’d be okay by myself. I had to roll my eyes—like I was incapable of being alone.
He might only be a year older than me, but he was a big brother in every sense of the words. Overly protective and growly toward any guy he thought showed any interest in me. Not that I had any of the latter. He and Mal did a good job of not letting guys even look in my direction.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I stood in the living room for a moment, then sat down on the couch, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV to watch something. The silence was deafening, even with the sound from the television. My eyes moved across the room and landed on my father’s liquor cabinet. I swallowed, my throat tightening a little at the very thought of getting myself something to drink.
I didn’t ever do this stuff—sneaking drinks from my father’s liquor stash, didn’t even have an interest in it—but what would a little shot hurt? Then I could make myself a frozen pizza and after that get a big heaping bowl of ice cream.
Without Aiden here, he wouldn’t give me a hard time about eating all his favorite toppings. I snorted and shook my head but did rise to go over to the liquor cabinet.
I crouched on my haunches, opened up the double doors, and looked inside. Dad wasn’t a big drinker, but on the occasion he had people over to entertain, he did have a variety of spirits.
Vodka, scotch, gin, and a few other bottles were lined up on the bottom of the shelf. I reached to the back for a bottle of scotch and pulled it out, staring at the dark-colored liquid inside the old looking bottle. I swirled it around, my stomach turning, my mind telling me this was a bad idea, because the stuff probably tasted like ass.
But regardless, I unscrewed the cap, brought the bottle up to my mouth, and took a long drink from it. I underestimated how much would come out, and a hefty amount slid down the back of my throat. I started sputtering, alcohol dribbling out my mouth and down my chin. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, screwing up my face in disgust, and put the bottle back where I found it.
My throat burned, my stomach did a flip, and I felt a grimace still on my face.
After closing the cabinet, I made my way into the kitchen, grabbed a pizza out of the freezer, turned on the oven, and slapped the frozen circle in the center of a cookie sheet before sliding it in and closing the door.