Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
All the muscles that had started to relax tighten again, but she ignores my reaction and continues talking while gliding her hands across my skin.
“It was stupid, really. I skipped school one day and went to the park to hang out with a group of friends. We were all just being kids, not doing anything bad, but we were having fun. So much fun that I thought the moment should be recorded for history’s sake. Like an idiot, I carved my full name and the date plus ‘Peace, love, and happiness’ into the top of one of the wooden tables in the park.”
She laughs softly, and I smile at the sound.
“Two cops showed up at my house a few weeks later, asking where I was on that date. At first, I had no idea what date they were referring to, but that didn’t last long. They had photos of my handiwork. Those made it perfectly clear that they knew where I had been. My dad, as you can imagine, was not impressed that his daughter had skipped school to deface public property. So he told the officers to arrest me.”
“Your dad had you arrested?” I ask, incredulous, through a smile.
She laughs. “Yes, and that day I had the privilege of sitting in a jail cell for a few hours before my mom found out what happened and came to get me out.”
“Was she pissed?”
“Pissed isn’t even close to what she was. The minute I saw how mad she was, I begged one of the officers to keep me locked up. I had never heard her screech so loud in my life. Thankfully, I haven’t heard that god-awful noise since then.”
I can hear the smile in her voice, so I tip my head to the side to get a look at her face. Christ, she’s beautiful. Seeing the smile she’s wearing causes my breath to freeze in my lungs and my chest to ache.
“Needless to say, I never skipped school again—or defaced public property.”
“Was that the only time you’ve been in trouble with the law?”
“No . . . that’s just the only time I was arrested.” She smirks, and my stomach muscles tighten while my cock starts to come back to life.
“Tell me.” I roll to my back so that I can see her face as she talks.
Her hands lift away; then she makes some kind of internal decision and puts them on me again, beginning to massage my pecs and shoulders.
“On my twenty-first birthday, my friends thought it would be smart for me to start drinking at a legal age by ingesting tequila.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up. That night, I ended up shirtless in Times Square, singing ‘I’m a Little Teapot,’” she says.
My hands flex at my sides at the idea of anyone seeing her the way I have. God, what the hell is she doing to me?
“Thankfully, the officer who got the call about a girl singing and running around topless in Times Square took pity on me when I puked all over him. Instead of arresting me like he could have, he made my friends take me home. He followed us all the way there, then gave us a warning that the next time we wouldn’t get off so easy.”
“You got lucky.”
“Believe me, I know. That is also the last time I ever drank tequila. Now if I even get a whiff of the stuff, my stomach turns and I find myself running for the nearest bathroom.”
“I hate hot dogs,” I tell her, wanting to share something about myself. I feel the need to, even if it’s about something stupid.
“You hate hot dogs?”
“I can’t stand them. When I was six, my parents got divorced.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hands go still and her soft eyes meet mine, causing something in my chest to get tight.
“Don’t be. Some people are better apart. Believe me, my parents are those people.”
“Is that why you hate hot dogs?”
“No,” I laugh. “My dad took me for the summer the first year after they divorced, and he had no idea how to cook. So we had hot dogs at every meal. Hot dogs and eggs, hot dogs and mac and cheese, hot dogs in spaghetti. I swear, if someone would have drawn my blood after that summer, my cholesterol at six years old would have been through the roof.”
“Poor kid.”
“Yeah. Since then, I can’t even look at a hot dog without wanting to get sick.”
“That sucks. There is nothing better than sitting out under the sun at Mets stadium, drinking a beer, and eating a hot dog while watching a game.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that, gorgeous. I might drink a beer, but you will never see me eating a hot dog.”
I notice how her pupils dilate when I say the word gorgeous.
Just when I think I’m getting somewhere, she quickly looks away.