Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Well, that’s a relief.
But still…
I dig my heels in, refusing to budge. “No, I can’t go until I find Alyssa.”
He points to a couple making out beneath the diving board. “She’s right there.” He pauses before adding, “She’s occupied at the moment.”
My gaze darts around the pool, trying to pick out what naked limbs belong to who before I find my best friend. Beck is right about her being busy. Colton has her backed up against the edge of the pool. Alyssa looks like she’s attempting to suction the breath right out of his lungs.
The tank top she borrowed earlier has gone missing.
My gaze skitters away. I’m not into voyeurism. Although some of these people are. There are plenty of them standing around, watching. Let’s hope that no one is videoing the moment for posterity.
“It’s unlikely Alyssa will leave anytime soon.”
“Probably not,” I mutter.
What am I supposed to do? Taking off feels wrong. But sitting around and watching people get it on feels downright pervy. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and chew it as I contemplate my options.
“Fine,” I say, “I’m going home.” I take a step away from Beck, trying to distance myself. The scent of his aftershave mingles with the chlorine in the pool. It shouldn’t be an intoxicating combination.
“Sorry, Stanbury, you’re staying here. The last thing I need is for you to choke on your own vomit.”
Give me a break. That’s not going to happen.
My fists go to my hips. “What does it matter if I sleep alone here or in my bed?”
His voice turns silky. “Who said anything about you sleeping solo?”
When my mouth tumbles open, a slow grin spreads across his face.
“Are you crazy?” I shake my head a little too vigorously and the party spins. “Forget it! I’m not sleeping with you!”
“That’s the thing, you don’t have a choice in the matter. The decision has already been made.”
Who does this guy think he is?
I open my mouth to blast him into next week when he says, “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s your choice.”
What does that even mean?
Instead of answering, I jerk my arm, trying to break free of his grip. “Let go! I’m leaving and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”
“The hard way it is.”
In one swift motion, he yanks me to him, crouches down, and wraps his arms around my thighs before hoisting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I don’t realize his intentions until my midsection lands against him, momentarily knocking the air from my lungs, and stunning me into silence. I blink and find the party turned upside down. It doesn’t do good things for all the alcohol sloshing around in my belly.
The crowd roars and my cheeks flame as the blood rushes to my head. Cool air hits the back of my thighs and I groan, remembering my choice in underwear. When I continue to struggle, a wide palm lands across my backside.
“Ow!”
“Stop fighting me. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but everyone is admiring your ass.” There’s a pause as he turns us around before moving toward the French doors that lead inside the house. “What the hell are you doing wearing a skirt this short?” Before I can formulate a response, he grumbles, “And with a fucking thong? I love it, but no one else should be checking out your ass.”
“Here’s a solution,” I growl, “put me down.”
“Not gonna happen.”
His hand slides from one exposed cheek to the crack of my ass before he splays his fingers wide to cover as much skin as possible from the gawking crowd. I squirm at the feel of his palm resting against my naked flesh. Especially there. I’m not sure which option is more preferable. That people ogle my ass or that Beck continues touching me so intimately. The print of his palm feels as if it has been singed into my flesh.
When I continue to wiggle, his fingers bite into my cheeks. “Stay still.” His voice turns low and grumbly. It does funny things to my insides, and a reluctant thrill spirals through me.
Beck weaves through the thick crowd. Every once in a while, he’ll stop and chat as if carrying a girl over his shoulder is perfectly normal behavior. “Everyone needs to be cleared out in an hour,” he says. “Got it?”
“Consider it done,” a deep voice responds.
Before I’m able to get my bearings, we’re on the move again. From my upside-down position, I watch the kitchen disappear as he walks through the first floor of the house. My hair swings around my face like a dark curtain, making it impossible to see. I should probably be thankful. I’ve never been so mortified in my life. If I’m lucky, no one will realize I’m the girl Beck has thrown over his shoulder and is carrying up to his room like a prize he won in a card game.