Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 136421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 682(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 682(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“You like it?” she asks enthusiastically, and I think I hear her Southern drawl thicken. It’s sexy as fuck.
“Love it!” I shout over the music, placing my hand on the small of her back as we sit at the bar. I can’t help but want to be close to her and let every man in here know she’s with me. She’s by far the sexiest woman in this saloon, and although we never established we were exclusively dancing with each other, I’m not sure I can watch someone else’s hands grab her waist. I’ve never been much of the jealous type, but when it comes to Everleigh, I selfishly want her all to myself.
The bartender comes over and immediately starts flirting with her.
“What’re ya havin’, beautiful?” He cocks a brow after blatantly staring at her tits.
Everleigh leans in closer to him and smirks. “What should I be having?”
My heart rate increases as I sit quietly, trying to act unfazed. If she’s trying to make me jealous, it’s working.
“For you, sweetheart? A screamin’ orgasm,” he tries to mumble seductively in her ear, but I overhear him. Watching someone with no game is sad. I wonder how many times he’s already used that cheap pick-up line tonight.
Everleigh laughs and politely plays into it. “In that case, I’ll take two.”
I can’t help but think back to the night her bed broke, wishing I’d been the one inside her, hearing her screaming orgasm.
“What about you, buddy?” His demeanor changes when he realizes she’s not alone.
“Oh, I’ll take a blow job,” I say, straight-faced. An unspoken conversation flows between us, and I think he realizes I’m not amused by his flirting with Everleigh. With a head nod, he turns on his heels and makes our drinks.
Everleigh snickers. “Why didn’t you just say so? Could’ve helped you with that myself.”
I stare at her, unamused by her giving this asshole her attention. Though I’ve learned quickly that Everleigh is a little flirt.
“Loosen up,” she says, pinching my side and forcing me to squirm. “I want you to have fun with me.”
“I always do,” I admit.
A beautiful smile sweeps across her plump lips.
The bartender arrives with our drinks, and I pay.
Everleigh looks at the whipped cream on my shot. “I kinda want a blow job now too. That looks good.”
“It’s all yours,” I offer, sliding it over. I only ordered it to make a fucking point. If she’s off-limits to me, she’s off-limits to everyone in here. Next, I order a whiskey straight-up from the other bartender.
“Let’s make a toast,” Everleigh insists, holding both of her shots up, and I lift mine. “To friends. To love. To screamin’ orgasms and blow jobs.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” We click our glasses together and suck them down. Then she shoots down the other.
“Want another?” I ask.
“Nah, I want to dance.”
I shake my head. “Uh, I don’t dance.”
“You do when you’re with me.” Everleigh grabs my hand and forces me to the center of the room, where the lights are lowered. She places it on her waist, then interlocks her fingers with my other hand. “Follow my lead.”
I can’t help but smile as we make our way around the room in flow with all the other couples.
“You lied! You can two-step just fine.”
“I have a good teacher,” I taunt.
“Yeah, right.”
I take her hand, twirl her around, and watch her face light up.
“You’re basically a pro!” she squeals.
Everleigh comes back and wraps her arms around my neck.
“My sister loved to dance,” I finally admit. “And she forced me to practice with her.”
“I knew it. Most guys who really can’t end up crushing my feet and looking like a tumbling mess.”
The song ends, and the next is a slow one. I pull Everleigh to my chest, and she looks up at me with fire in her eyes. We sway to the music without saying a word, and it’s nice. My mind wanders, and I wonder if we could make a relationship work. Between the reasons it can’t, I like to think there’s at least one why it could. The mood turns somber and serious, and I suggest we play pool when another slow one starts.
“Yeah,” she says, stopping the waitress on the way to order a double shot of tequila.
We head into the game room area and wait for a table. Somehow, Everleigh sweet-talks some guys into letting us play after their round is over. I’m not the only one under her magical spell tonight because she’s the center of attention.
“Have you played a lot?” She grabs a cue stick and rubs chalk over the tip.
I shrug. “I’ve won a few games or so.”
She tilts a brow at me. “Are you a pool shark or something?”
I laugh. “No. Are you?”
“We’ll see.” She waggles her brows. “You wanna break the balls?”
“Go ahead,” I tell her, knowing she’s been breaking mine all night long. Rather, for weeks.