Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Wish me luck, Jersey.” He cradled the back of her head and kissed the top of it.
She rested a flat hand on his chest over his heart. “Luck, Coop.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Jersey gave Chris the silent treatment for the next twenty-four hours. As they ate dinner, she set down her fork and asked the question that gnawed at her.
“Why?”
“Oh. Are we speaking again?” He glanced up from his plate.
“If you want me to get close to him, why say something to piss him off?”
“Him? Are you sure I didn’t piss you off as well?”
“Yes. You pissed me off too. You’re trying to derail everything I’ve done.”
He coughed, bringing his napkin to his mouth. “Sorry. I’m a little lost. Aside from screwing him, what exactly have you done?”
“Trust, asshole. I’m gaining his trust. If he trusts me, then he tells me everything.”
“Fine, buttercup. But while you’re fucking the trust out of him, I’m doing the real work. I’m the reason Max looked into your past. I’m the one who put that bug in her ear, innocently expressing my concerns over your past and how it might affect our favorite rock star. I’m the one who sucker punched him with the truth about the post-concert blowjob. And you know…” he leaned back in his chair, pushing his plate away from the edge of the table “…I think good cop/bad cop is the way to go. I plant seeds of doubt in his mind; you swoop in to ride his dick and reassure him that all is well. That way, he’ll never see it coming.”
“See what coming?” Jersey stared out the window at the pool.
“The end.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just … I’m not sure we have the right person.”
“Oh, Jers …” He chuckled some more. “Let’s go into a dark room. Let me bury my face between your legs for ten minutes, and I bet you’ll forget what I look like, who I am, and that I was threatened with death if I touched you.”
“You’re an asshole.” She controlled the urge to crawl across the table and bludgeon him with her fists—because a small part of him was right. Ian manipulated her with words, a look, a touch. Only, he wasn’t knowingly manipulating her. “Wait … what do you mean threatened you with death if you touch me?”
“He’s a little possessive of you, Jers. If you weren’t going to kill him, I’d warn you to watch yourself. Guys like him are bad news.”
“He said if you touched me, he’d kill you?”
Chris scratched the back of his neck and nodded. “I get it. I want to rip out his vocal cords every time he touches you.” He gazed out the window.
Jersey opened her mouth to speak. Then clamped it shut. Most of the time, Chris did a good job of hiding his insecurities, but in that moment, everything from his broken tone to his inability to look her in the eye reeked of insecurity. Ripping out someone’s vocal cords felt possessive too.
Did sleeping next to him cross a line in his mind? Did he misinterpret their friendship?
“Well, if anyone kills you, it will be me. I won’t let Ian do it.”
He shot her a quick glance, and she returned a toothy grin.
“And you’ll make ripping out his vocal cords part of his slow death, right?” Chris looked to her for reassurance.
Jersey chewed on the inside of her cheek for a few seconds before giving him a slow nod. An odd chime sounded from the other side of the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Your phone, Jersey. It’s ringing.”
She looked for her phone, finding it under a kitchen towel. “Hello?”
It continued to ring.
“Swipe right, Jers.”
She held it out and swiped right, bringing it back to her ear. “Hello?”
Ian chuckled; it was louder than she expected. “Hold it away from your face. It’s a video chat.”
Jersey looked at the screen and saw Ian’s sexy smile and messy hair. He sipped a cup of coffee. Her grin took over her face. When she caught Chris’s frown out of the corner of her eye, she took her tiny live version of Ian up the stairs to his bedroom.
“Coffee for dinner, Coop?” She shut the bedroom door and plopped down on his bed, resting her head on the padded headboard.
“Breakfast. It’s early morning here.”
“And where are you again?” She turned her head to the side and released her hair from its ponytail.
“Lisbon, Portugal.”
“Where is—” She bit her lips together for a moment. “Uh … so when’s your next concert?”
Ian set his coffee down and combed his fingers through his messy hair. Long bangs swept low onto his forehead. “Portugal is a southern European country next to Spain.” He smiled—a sweet, nonjudgmental smile. “In case you were wondering. I’m terrible at geography. Thank god for the internet and instant maps.”