Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
He could say I want to make love to you and I'd still catch flame.
I'm already burning up.
"You want more?" He offers me the drink.
I take a small sip. It is way too sweet. Not because it's not what I'd normally allow myself. (Though it is). Because the sugar overwhelms the spices. And the tea. It really does taste like a syrup. "It's terrible." But I still linger on the straw.
My lips are where his lips were.
God, he has such pretty lips.
He takes a long sip. Leans down to set his drink on the floor. "You sure you don't want more?"
"Yeah." I lick my lips. They're sweet with this hint of cinnamon. But all I can think is I'm practically kissing him.
He follows my gaze to the drink. "You're staring."
"No." I try to make eye contact. "I just… thought you'd have more self-respect."
He chuckles. "Where'd you get that idea?"
"You're a smart guy."
"No, I'm not."
"But, you, uh—"
"No one thinks I have self-respect."
"You don't want them to think that. I mean, you do want them to think that." I take a long sip. My drink is better, much better, but I hate washing away the taste of his.
His lips must taste like that too sweet chai.
His lips must taste like heaven.
God, they're such pretty lips.
"You know what I mean." I swallow another sip. Try to direct my thoughts toward my tea.
He shakes his head. "What you see is what you get."
"I don't think so."
"You should."
"Well, I see a guy with self-respect."
"You need glasses?" His voice is light, teasing, but there's something in his eyes.
He blinks and it disappears.
Back to full-time trouble maker.
Or maybe it was never there. Maybe I'm imagining things.
"Good taste?" I ask.
"In what?"
"Clothes."
He laughs. "True."
"Women?"
"No one has ever accused me of that."
"Tea?"
"Apparently, not."
"See, I think you do. I think you'd prefer something like this." I hold up my drink. Offer it to him.
His fingers brush mine as he takes it. His lips close around the lid. He takes a long sip. Swallows hard. Lets out a soft moan. "Fuck, that is good."
"Better?"
"Yeah. I'm keeping it."
"You are not."
He nods I am not. "But I might insist you make my tea."
"You really drink tea?"
"Am I not allowed?"
"No. You just seem like… not like the type." Not just because he's a trouble making player. Because he's… normal. But normal people drink tea. It's the most consumed beverage in the world. It doesn't have to be about recovery. It can just be tea.
"Looks can be deceiving."
"I thought what I saw was what I got."
"Shit. Gotta work that one out." His laugh is light. Easy. He turns away from the gate. Scans the crowd.
For signs of Oliver? Or Luna?
Where is she anyway? She said she had to fix her makeup, but that was fifteen minutes ago. Maybe the Starbucks line is taking forever.
Maybe she's keeping Oliver distracted so I can talk to Holden.
Maybe—
His eyes catch mine. "You want good tea?"
"Always."
"What else?"
"In general?"
"For your trip." His knee brushes mine. Denim against my bare skin. "What, specifically, do you want?"
"Everyone is asking me that."
"It's for you."
True, but—"I want everyone to have fun."
"What kind of fun?"
"The normal kind. Swimming. Laying on the beach."
"Drinking until you throw up?"
I shake my head.
"It's a rite of passage."
"I'll save it for later."
His laugh is big. Easy. "Okay. Drinking until you're happy drunk and no more?"
"Okay."
"It's harder than it sounds."
Of course. Moderation isn't my strong suit. "But I have you to help me."
His smile lights up his eyes. "That's how you want my help?"
"It seems like where you'd excel."
"Okay. Swimming, sun, drinking just enough. Anything else?" He raises a brow. "Hot guys?"
"Which guys?"
"Ones who are hot."
"Maybe." My cheeks flush. "If something happens, it happens. But I'm not looking for it."
"So Oliver didn't slip that past you?"
"That Puerto Vallarta is a big gay destination?" I laugh. "No. I'm the one who suggested it."
"Oh?" Holden raises a brow. "Want to experiment? Can I watch?"
My blush deepens. "Would you really?"
"Not today. But tomorrow."
"So you're just waiting for me to turn eighteen?"
"If Oliver asks."
"You want him to believe that?"
He nods of course. "It keeps him guessing."
"And what do you… really want?" Say you want me. That you want to touch me, kiss me, fuck me.
"I want to show you a good time."
"How?"
"That's what I'm asking." His voice stays light. "I have a few ideas. But I need you to trust me."
"Trust you?"
"To plan your trip. Or, at least, your birthday."
"You plan?"
"It's a struggle." He taps his head. "Takes all the brainpower I have, but I can make it happen."
"Okay." My laugh eases the tension in my shoulders. He does that to me. Makes me feel relaxed. And in knots. It's weird. Addictive. "I trust you."
"You do?" His voice gets serious. Faux serious.
"I do."
"That's foolish."
"Is it?"
"Oh yeah. But I do appreciate it."
Chapter Eight
Holden
Apparently, the premium economy seats offer free snacks and liquor. For those twenty-one plus.