Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I understood that without any major discussion, but what I really wanted was for him to lose control and become so overcome with lust that he didn’t think twice about unzipping my khakis and putting his hands all over my body…and his dick in my ass.
Clearly, I was going to have to seduce him.
8
Asher
Seduction was not my forte. It required a subtlety I’d never really mastered. I preferred straightforward interaction to small talk and pretense any day of the week. And while I’d become better at trite conversation since I’d met Blake, pretending I wasn’t attracted to him was borderline impossible. I couldn’t ask my friends for advice on this one. I had to do my own research and hope for the best.
Sadly, the Internet didn’t give me much to work with: Stand tall, shoulders back, sustain eye contact with arms uncrossed. Not a problem, but I wasn’t sure what my posture had to do with seduction. I also read a compelling post suggesting it was a good idea to exhibit special interest in your crush’s remarks, no matter how casual they might seem. That seemed reasonable and doable. Oh, yes…and dress to impress.
Got it.
I wore a snug blue T-shirt that complemented my eyes, with the only pair of jeans I owned and added an extra spritz or three of cologne before racing downstairs to open the door for Blake Saturday morning. I skidded to a halt in front of the mirror in the dim foyer and patted my hair into place as Tommy appeared.
“Oh, I thought I heard a knock. Must be for you.” He whistled, giving me a thorough once-over. “You look snazzy and—”
Tommy broke into a coughing fit.
I paused with my hand on the doorknob and narrowed my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he gasped. “I’m just—are you wearing cologne?”
I sniffed my shirt and nodded. “Is it too much?”
“Um, well…”
Knock, knock.
Oh, geez. Too late.
I opened the door with a flourish and a casual greeting on the tip of my tongue, but promptly forgot my first name.
Holy bejeezus. Blake Johnston was a god. I knew this already, so why did the sight of this tall, delicious hunk with a killer smile and sexy, stubbled jaw make me dizzy?
I tried not to drool at his biceps bulging from the sleeves of his royal blue Buffalo Sabres tee or notice the way his ancient Levi’s hugged his package just so. It wasn’t easy. Gosh, he even did damp hair well. I jumped out of the shower looking like a wet rat, like almost everyone else on the planet. Not Blake. His hair curled at his ears, giving him a deceptively boyish look that dissipated at the sheer size of his chest and broad shoulders.
“Hey, there. You ready to roll?”
“Uh, yes.” I swallowed my tongue and blinked a few times before turning to make a quick round of introductions. “Um…Blake, this is my friend, Tommy. Tommy, this is Blake. We’re going to build something.”
Tommy politely extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Blake shook Tommy’s hand, tilting his head toward me. “I’m just tagging along for moral support. Ash is doing the building.”
Tommy barked a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
I scowled at my friend, who of course, knew that the only way I’d build a bookcase was if it was made of Legos. I didn’t have a chance to respond, though. Blake tugged at my elbow, wordlessly guiding me outside.
The second I fastened my seat belt, a fresh round of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I twisted my hands nervously, eyeing Blake’s sexy forearms as he entered my mother’s address into his GPS.
“There shouldn’t be much traffic this morning,” he said conversationally as he pulled away from the curb. “Looks like we’ll get there in thirty-five minutes or so.”
“Yes, that’s correct,” I replied woodenly.
We let the satellite radio take over for a couple of miles, then started talking at once.
“What’s your mom like?” he asked as I blurt-yelled, “The weather is nice!”
Blake lowered his sunglasses and shot a quick “You sound crazy” glance my way.
I gave a self-deprecating half laugh and tried again. “My mom is nice too. You’ll like her. And she’ll definitely like you.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause you’re nervous, and you’re making me nervous.”
“Nervous?” I squeaked. “Ha. Don’t be silly.”
“Then why are you wringing your hands?”
I glanced at my hands on cue and quickly tucked them under my thighs.
“Why don’t you tell me about…Sabres…while we enjoy this traffic-free excursion.”
“Sabres? Oh, you mean my shirt. They’re my hockey team. I think my sister bought this for me last Christmas.”
“What do you mean by ‘your hockey team’?”
“I grew up rooting for them. Buffalo is the biggest nearby city, and everyone in my town loves hockey,” he explained, veering onto the 10 Freeway.
“Why?”
He chuckled, rolling his window down a few inches. “Because hockey is awesome. It’s fast-paced, fun, and requires extreme skill. You gotta be able to skate, read the ice, and handle a puck like a badass.”