Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
It felt like an order. I bit my bottom lip as I tried to muster the courage to say no.
But I failed miserably. I turned around and went back into the house, stalling. I plodded through the large media room and into the spare bedroom Dr. Lowe used as his home gym. The only other rooms downstairs were the bedroom Preston used while home from college, and the bathroom, both of which were disasters. He left his clothes everywhere, and it was easier to change in here.
Calling this room a home gym was probably too fancy. It had a treadmill and an all-in-one weight machine. The futon Preston used mostly as a couch at college was pushed to one corner, and I dropped my bag on it with a sigh.
As I changed, I reminded myself of my goal. I wasn’t happy with my boyfriend, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hurt him. I hoped to break up with him in the least painful way for both of us.
I stacked my clothes on the futon, grabbed a beach towel out of the hall closet, and forced myself back outside.
His gaze lifted to me, and he blinked. Then his eyes hazed as he scanned my body, clad in a simple, black string bikini. “Is that new?”
My mouth went dry. What had I been thinking, bringing this swimsuit? I hadn’t been, really. I’d grabbed the first thing that would work and had shoved it in my bag. Wearing the bikini had been a bad idea.
“It was on sale at Target,” I croaked.
His expression was thick with lust as he pushed off the side. “I like it.” He swirled his hands beneath the water, floating closer to me and the shallow end. “C’mon in.”
Preston’s intentions couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d tried. He wanted to fuck. Was it the only reason he’d called me over? I hurled the beach towel down onto the lounge chair and twisted my dark brown hair up into a bun. I didn’t want to get it wet, because it’d take forever to dry, and I might need to leave in a hurry if things became too emotional.
Reluctantly, I went to the stairs at the front of the pool and took my first step into the water. I only made it halfway down before his cold, wet arms were wrapped around my body, and he was pulling me deep into the center of the pool.
“Wait,” I said with forced casualness, struggling against his embrace. I wanted to get in under my terms, and I didn’t want him so close. I needed distance to do what had to be done.
Whatever disconnect was going on between us, it seemed to get wider every time we were together, and Preston ignored my protest. His mouth crashed against the side of my neck, planting kisses. It’d always been the surefire move to turn me on, the fastest way to get in my pants, but things had changed between us, and this was one of them.
“Preston,” I said, pushing away and finally getting out of his hold.
He turned and looked up at the huge arched windows on the back of the house, then focused on me. “What? Are you worried about my dad? He doesn’t care what we do.”
Oh, God. A shiver ran through me, but since most of my body was underwater, it was unlikely my boyfriend could see it.
Like a fool, the first weekend home from school I’d tried to bring Preston back to me and used the only tool I could think of—sex. The back yard beyond the fence was surrounded by woods, so no one could see us as we went skinny-dipping in the middle of the day. There weren’t people around to witness how he’d set me down on the thick cushion of the lounger, knelt between my parted legs, and thrust inside me.
I’d let him fuck me while I thought no one was watching, but I’d been wrong. As Preston’s tempo increased, I’d turned my head to the side and saw a figure at the window.
TWO
DR. LOWE VANISHED FROM VIEW the moment our gazes locked, and Preston mistook my gasp of surprise as pleasure, too into the moment to think it’d be anything else. I didn’t tell him what I’d seen, and Dr. Lowe never said a word about it. Not to me, and probably not to his son either. He was excellent at pretending it hadn’t happened.
But I wondered how long he’d stood at the window.
How much of my naked body had he seen, writhing on the deck chair? Should I have felt unease? Disgust? I didn’t. All I felt was odd and jittery, like I’d been left under a heat lamp too long. Whenever I thought about it, my skin glowed hot and was stretched too tight.