Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Oh my God.
Sara walks toward me in a cherry-red dress. There’s a slit that goes mid-thigh, and the top drapes along her chest, dipping just low enough to give you a hint of what’s beneath.
She’s a fucking centerfold.
“Hey,” she says, smiling and brushing her hair off one shoulder. “I thought I heard you come in.”
I don’t know where to start. Well, I would know where to start, but that’s not happening.
“Holy fucking hell,” I say, jaw hanging open. It takes effort and intention to pick it back up. “What are you doing?”
I should bring up the car parts; that seems like a logical, neutral topic. But, unfortunately for me, that’s not what comes out.
She looks down, running her hands over her stomach. “Getting my ducks in a row for the gala.”
“You’re wearing that?”
“Maybe.” She lifts her gaze to mine, a wash of uncertainty on her features. “Your mom brought it over, which was so nice of her. You have the sweetest mother.”
“Yeah. She’s great. You’re wearing that?” I ask again.
Her brows pinch together. “Do you want to see my other option?”
She’s missing the point. Or am I missing the point? Hell if I know.
“I am a little worried that this hangs too low.” She glances at her chest. “What do you think?”
“Sara,” I say, struggling for words. “You look incredible.”
She stills before focusing on me. When she does, a hand goes to her hip. I watch the change behind her eyes—the shift from vulnerability to guarded.
“Is this like the shirt thing?” she asks, deflecting the conversation to something easier for her to navigate. “You obviously like it but want to torture us both?”
I see what you’re doing, Sara. The corners of my lips tilt to the ceiling.
She points at me. “That smirk is not an answer.”
“It’s gonna have to be.”
I head to the kitchen, my brain spinning and body pulsing.
She follows me. The dress swishes across the floor with every step. “Walk slower. Walking in a dress slows a girl down.”
“Or maybe just don’t follow me.”
“Or maybe just don’t be a dick.”
I pull out a glass—I have this many clean glasses?—and scoop some ice in it. Then I add some water.
Okay, Banksy. Let’s get it together.
This is the moment Gloria was talking about—the moment it comes to a head. Sara isn’t going to back away from this conversation, and I can’t hide from her forever.
Still, I don’t know what to say.
I can give you so much more than sex.
That sounds stupid in my head. Who am I? Jess?
I lean against the counter and sigh. “Is there a damn thing in this house that hasn’t been touched since I’ve been gone?”
She smirks, her eyes filling with mischief. “Yeah. One thing. Wanna know what it is?”
“Not really.”
“You are way less fun than I thought you were going to be.”
“Well, there’s one thing I’ve never heard before.”
She glares at me. It’s adorable.
“Who is going with you to the gala?” I ask.
Her lips press together. “It’s not been confirmed.”
“Have you asked anyone?”
She swallows, her confidence waning.
I’m not sure what to say here, whether I press her or leave her to do her own thing. But Paige’s words echo through my mind, and I grasp them.
Be you. I have learned in my life that when you’re unapologetically you, you attract all the things meant to come your way. It works. I promise.
“Why didn’t you ask me to go to the gala with you?” I ask, holding her gaze.
“I’ve already taken so much from your family. From you. And Maddox. And now your mom. I’d rather not be remembered as a leech.”
I grin. “It’s a little late for that.”
She swats at my arm, the contact as strong as a lightning bolt. I feel it all the way to my cock.
Her eyes light up as if she feels it too, and her lips part as she sucks in a breath.
I step toward her. She grins and takes one back. I smirk and take another. She lifts her chin and takes another back.
“Do you want to go to the gala with me?” she asks, her voice flirty.
“And have you, in that dress, on my arm all night? I might be able to manage.”
She grins. “You would be going as my fake fiancé, you know.”
“I don’t have to take any vows, do I?”
Her eyes widen as her back hits the wall. “Maybe a few.”
I plant my hands on either side of her, caging her in. “Like what?”
“You might have to vow to hold my hands.”
I press off the wall, reaching down and taking her hands in mine. Then I draw them up, over her head, and hold them against the wall.
Her chest rises and falls at a quickened pace. Her big blue eyes are wide.
“What else?” I ask.
She lifts her chin. “You might have to kiss me.”
Every muscle in my body pulls taut as I lower my lips to hers. Blood races through my body so fast that I can hear it rush over my ears.