Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
When he finally breaks away, I’m a quivering mess of hormones.
“Ready for your treat?”
God, yes. But not the one he has in mind.
Wickedness glints in his eyes as if he’s all too aware of the effect he has on me. His grip disappears from my hair before he exits the vehicle. I press my thighs together to lessen the painful flood of arousal that has gathered in my core.
“You coming?” he asks, voice brimming with humor.
“Yup.” I wince and suck in a shaky breath before slowly releasing it, trying to calm the rioting emotions inside me, but it’s no use.
Once I’m certain my knees won’t buckle, I follow Kingsley to the window of the Dairy Barn and glance at the chalkboard with all the flavors of ice cream. The young girl behind the window beams at him, going all soft in the eyes.
I can hardly blame her for being instantly smitten.
He’s gorgeous, muscular, and confident.
It’s a potent combination.
Catnip for the female sex.
My mind tumbles back to the first time I saw him on the beach, the sun shining on his dark head, and how completely bowled over I was. The way his eyes sparkled with humor. Those full, sexy lips that begged to be kissed. And then there’s the rest of him. Broad shoulders, bulging biceps, hard pecs, and six-pack abs all leading to a tapered waist.
What female in her right mind could resist him?
“Summer?”
The sound of his deep voice pierces the thick web of memories as they slyly wrap their way around me. “Yeah?”
Heat ignites in his eyes until I’m scorched by the intensity burning in them. “I asked what you wanted to order.”
“Oh, right.” I search the board, even though ice cream is the last thing on my mind. “A single scoop chocolate cone, please.”
“I’ll have the same.” Kingsley’s attention never deviates from me as he digs through his pocket and produces a twenty.
The cashier takes the bill before returning with his change. Not bothering to count it, he stuffs the money into the tip jar on the counter.
My nerves intensify as I shift from one foot to the other. It’s a relief when the girl returns with our cones. Color stains her cheeks as Kingsley’s fingers brush against hers.
Instead of returning to the car, he points to a bench at the far corner of the gravel parking lot. “Let’s sit over there.”
I detour to the park bench shaded by a sprawling oak tree. The leaves are turning red and gold but have yet to fall. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, resting his elbows on the slats of the bench. I settle at the opposite end, needing to create distance between us.
When he takes a leisure lick of his cone, more arousal bursts inside me and I shift, glancing away.
“What’s wrong?” His voice drops, becoming husky. “Remind you of something?”
I watch him from the corner of my eye as he does it again with exaggerated slowness.
All this feels like is a game. One I don’t understand the rules for and can’t possibly win. At this point, I don’t even want to play. This has turned out to be way more than I bargained for.
“Why are you toying with me?” No longer does the cone I’m clenching hold appeal.
His face remains shuttered. “What makes you think I’m toying with you?”
I give him an exasperated look that says oh please.
When my ice cream continues to melt under the sweltering sun, I rise and dump it in the plastic bin near the squat white building. Kingsley’s gaze never falters as he continues to eat his cone. I wait, hoping he’ll get the hint that I’m ready to leave. When he remains seated, I reluctantly return to the bench. An unsettling silence falls over us as I find a loose thread at the hem of my plaid skirt to pick at.
“I don’t understand you,” I whisper before pressing my lips together. The thought had been circling through my head, but I didn’t mean to voice it out loud.
“What’s there to understand?” Even though his legs remain outstretched and his posture relaxed, this conversation feels anything but.
“Do you always answer a question with a question?” When he smirks, I continue. “You’re nothing like the guy I met at the beach. It’s like you aren’t even the same person.” This is what haunts me most. It’s the only reason I can’t close myself off from him completely.
A spark of emotion flashes in his eyes. It’s there and gone before I can decipher what it means.
When he remains silent, frustration bubbles up inside me and I snap, “You know what? I actually liked that guy.”
Tension vibrates from him before shimmering in the air between us. It’s almost suffocating in its intensity.
“Don’t you get it? Everything was different at the beach.” Irritation explodes from his lips as if I should already know this. “We were different.”