Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Looks like the powers that be are on my side because she’s in the shower when I get to the condo. Things have been weird since we fucked. And then there was the ice cream freak-out. She’s been avoiding me since that happened. I fucking hate it.
I grab the jug of orange juice from the fridge and a box of crackers and climb the ladder to the loft. I turn on the TV, set up the gaming console, and put the headset on. I’ll occupy myself until she comes up.
I’m in the middle of a level when a pillow hits me in the side of the head. It knocks off the headphones, and I drop the controller. My player dies in a hail of gunfire as Beat shrieks.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” Her body is wrapped in a towel—a regular bath one, not the sheets that act like a dress. It means most of her toned, curvy legs are on display.
“Been a while since I’ve heard that sound. Usually it’s from me spanking your pussy, though.” Oh yeah, I’m bringing my asshole A-game.
“You scared the shit out of me! Why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“I didn’t hear you.” I motion to the headphones. “And was playing a video game. In my loft.”
She clutches her towel to her chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out by the end of September.”
I don’t want her to move into another shitty apartment because she can’t get away from me fast enough. But instead of saying something normal, I act like the dick I am. “Can’t handle facing your bad decision every day, eh?” That has to be the reason she’s avoiding me like the plague. Not that I blame her. I’d do the same if I were in her shoes.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Tristan, stop throwing it in my face every time I see you.”
“You’re doing a good job of throwing it in mine.” Running away every time I’m home. Evade. Dodge. Hide.
“What are you talking about?”
“You already said you regret it.” It’s a real kick in the balls. I should regret it. Hell, I want to. It’d be easier if I felt the same way. But all I want is more. I can’t tell her that, though. She’ll use it against me.
Her brow furrows. “We haven’t even had a conversation about it since it happened.”
I cross my arms. “Sure we did. The evening after.”
Bea’s nose scrunches up, and she rubs her temple. She’s so fucking cute when she’s frustrated. “You were being a dick. You said once was enough! Why would I want to be anywhere near you after you told me I’m a bad lay?”
“You said you regretted it!” I push to my feet. “I asked if you were regretting your decision already, and you said, ‘Of course I am.’” I should get out of here. This conversation isn’t going anywhere good. She’s naked under that towel, and I’m two seconds away from admitting all I can think about is getting her under me again.
She shakes her head.
“That’s exactly what you said,” I snap.
She flails her hand. She’s getting heated again. I can deal with that better than I can the fucking silence, surprisingly. “Yeah, but not because I regretted the actual sex,” she counters. “All we do is argue. And in case you were unaware, you’re kind of a giant asshole. It’s pretty damn conflicting.”
“So you don’t regret the sex?” I don’t like the wave of relief that washes over me.
She narrows her eyes and tips her head. “Why are you pushing this so hard? Why do you even care? You think I’m annoying.”
“You drive me up the fucking wall, Beat.” But not because I find her annoying. After holding her in my arms the other day, I stopped hating that she’s living here. It’s the opposite now, actually. She’s smart and funny and driven. She’s helpful and thoughtful and so fucking kind. I don’t deserve any part of her, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her, and that’s what’s making me feel like I’m losing my mind. I close the distance between us and clench my fists so I don’t do something stupid like take her face in my hands and kiss her again.
She tips her chin up, defiant. “The feeling is entirely mutual.” But I see hurt lurking under the surface. I wonder if that’s what made her cry the other day. Maybe she’s taking my admission out of context.
“I hate that you smell so fucking good all the time.”
“I hate your ridiculous body and your rock-solid ass,” she fires back.
“Every time you wear those tiny sleep shorts, I want to yank them off, throw you over my lap, spank that luscious ass, and finger-fuck you until you come.”
“Oh, God.” She grips her towel tighter and rubs her legs together. “I hate that I want that, too.” Her teeth sink into her plush bottom lip.