Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
My heart pounded in my chest—I was suddenly and painfully sober. Who did I think I was? I was not equipped to handle situations like this, men like this. I should’ve let the past lie.
“What was your plan?” he asked, breath hot on my face.
Though my body trembled with fear and … something else, I kept my eyes on his. I couldn’t rip my gaze away if I tried. “W-what?”
“Your plan,” he repeated, leaning in even closer. “The last time I saw you, you made it very fuckin’ clear what you thought of me. You strike me as a woman who knows her own mind and doesn’t change it on a dime. I wronged you in the past. Pretty badly for it to still have your eyes burning with anger toward me eighteen years later.” He reached out to toy with a piece of my hair.
My lips trembled. Yeah, this had gotten way out of hand, and he saw through my ruse immediately.
Surely, someone would come and interrupt us. There was no way a bar full of drunk people had this much bladder control.
Yet here we were. Alone, the throaty voice of the country singer nothing but a mumble in the background.
“If you coming onto me is my punishment, then I’m more than willing to do the time,” he murmured. “Except I’m thinking that’s not what you had in mind.”
I bit my lip. Again, I didn’t consider myself an evil genius, but I also didn’t think my plan would be that clear. That made me angry.
I jutted my chin upward, refusing to let him intimidate me with his size, with his authority, with his sexual energy.
“Maybe I just want you,” I replied. “Maybe I want to have some angry, hate sex.”
It was when the words came out of my mouth that I realized that I kind of did want to have some angry, hate sex. My pussy thrummed with the thought of it. Whether it be the booze, my dire situation or temporary insanity, I leaned forward so our lips almost brushed.
“Maybe I just want you to take me to a bathroom stall, turn me around, lift up my dress and fuck me hard.” My finger looped around one of his belt loops to pull him close to me. Close enough to feel his hard cock through his jeans.
My pussy pulsed again. I forgot about my revenge, my juvenile plans to seduce him, steal his clothes and make him walk through a crowded bar naked. It was a stupid plan.
Getting him to fuck me, on the other hand, felt like a brilliant idea.
I could get him back by getting my orgasm and then refusing to let him finish. Yes, great plan.
My hesitance from before about whether he wanted me was long gone. His cock was hard, his eyes were alight with desire. I could practically smell the masculine energy radiating from him.
“Oh, I would love nothing more than to take you into that restroom and fuck you so hard you forget any sins I’ve committed against you in the past, to worship you,” he rasped, voice deep and wild.
My body tingled with the visual.
Brody’s lips lingered against mine, and I smelled the beer he’d been drinking, the woodsy aroma of his cologne and then a smell that belonged only to him.
“But...” he murmured, just as I was about to close my eyes and let him kiss me. “You’re drunk.” He leaned back so our lips were no longer brushing then tucked hair behind my ear. “You’re drunk, and you still don’t like me very much. As much as I want you, me taking you to that bathroom and fucking you would be cementing your opinion of me as an asshole.”
My breathing stuttered as his words penetrated.
“I’m not a bad guy, Willow,” he growled, keeping me pinned against the wall. “I’m not gonna take advantage of you here and now. Not a bad enough man to do that. But I will fuck you dirty like the bad girl you are when you’re in my bed where you can scream as loud as you want, and a bar full of assholes isn’t going to hear you.”
I blinked slowly. My body was still reeling with his presence, with the way I’d spoken to him and the way he’d spoken to me. My sexual life before this could easily be described as vanilla. There was no way I’d been in this position with a long-term boyfriend, let alone an old bully.
An old bully who was trying to masquerade as a reasonable man.
Finding my senses, I lifted my hand, placed it on his chest then shoved. Hard.
Now, I was tall, but I wasn’t strong. Brody was a large man and all muscle. If he didn’t want to move, he could’ve resisted my shove. Easily. But he didn’t. He let me push him back, push him away from me.