Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Oh shit. If EasyDude shows up, I’m gonna be humiliated. He’s going to see me going ga-ga over my hot neighbor, which is an awkward position, to say the least. But somehow, Trent’s not bothered by any of this? After all, how would he know? He’s here to grab a burger, and that’s all.
But there’s something going on with my neighbor. Call it womanly instinct, but I can sense electricity in the air. Plus, the muscled man is glaring at me so intensely that he looks almost angry. Finally, I manage to finally gather my wits to ask him what his problem is, when his huge hand suddenly envelops my wrist and he drags me into a booth in the far corner of the restaurant.
It all happens so fast that I have no time or chance to resist. Before I know what’s happened, I find myself sitting across from my neighbor’s impossibly huge form, that handsome face caught in a scowl. Oh shit! What if EasyDude comes now? I have to find some way to make my excuses, and begin blabbering like a fool.
“Wh-what are you doing, Mr. Lewis? Funny to see you here,” I stammer. He places his forearms on the table and leans forwards, still staring intently. But a look of insecurity flashes across his eyes, so fast I may have imagined it. Finally, the male speaks.
“HeartLove?”
What? My heart skips a beat. My mouth goes dry. I stare back in amazement. He can’t be. Trent can’t be EasyDude. Unless …. Wait a minute. Tattoos? Check. Muscular? Check. Hot as hell? Check check.
“What did you call me?” I manage in a hoarse whisper. But Trent doesn’t need to repeat it. We both know what he said. And he sits back again, taking a deep breath. Oh god - Trent is EasyDude. I can feel my face flush in shame as my mind starts repeating back all the messages we exchanged, and all the dirty stuff he asked me to do - which I did.
Heat rises to my face, spreading wildly all over my chest. I’m probably not at all what he was expecting. He probably expected some supermodel cum Jessica Rabbit-type, when all he’s getting is me. I brace myself for the rejection, almost wincing in anticipation. This is going to be embarrassing, not to mention awful in every way.
But Trent grins, a cocky light flashing in those cerulean eyes, and it causes my heart to jump. He looks me up and down, that slow gaze taking in everything from the heaving tits to the damp patch of moisture gathering on my tummy. Is that a look of approval on his face?!
“I knew it was you the moment you walked in,” he says in a low voice.
“You did?” I reply carefully, my voice still hoarse. He’s showing no signs of wanting to leave, no signs of disappointment or shame. Only need. And want. And lust. I must be imaging this. This is crazy, and yet I can’t help but smile back. Trent is nodding.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to believe it at first,” he adds.
“You didn’t?” I reply stupidly. God, Janie, make some real conversation! But Trent doesn’t seem to think I’m an idiot. He leans forward again, confidentially, as if he’s sharing a secret.
“I’ve noticed you before, Janie,” he rasps hoarsely. “In your driveway and around the neighborhood. But I always thought I was too old for you.”
“You’re not,” I hurriedly interrupt him. “I’m - I’m eighteen.” I try to shrug confidently as I say it. He stares at me intensely, looking deep into my eyes, and it unsettles me a little. “Promise me you’re eighteen. Swear it,” he grunts, that gaze intent.
Oh my goodness. Where is this coming from? But I look right back at him. It is true that I’m legal, but I wonder what’s happened to this beautiful man in the past to make him so intent.
“Why?” I ask in a whisper, unable to hide my curiosity.
He jerks his chin roughly.
“Just swear it. Please,” he replies, even more intensely now. Something about him makes me trust him, and I want him to trust me too. So I do what he says.
“I promise I’m eighteen. I swear it,” I say, looking evenly into his eyes. He seems to relax a little then, but something is still bothering him. He closes his eyes briefly and sits back again, clenching his jaw.
“Sweetheart, I’m still too old for you,” he rasps. “Fuck. I’m twice your age.”
“I don’t care,” I reply quickly, and before I know what I'm doing, my hand is on his. He glances at it and I can see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows hard. Suddenly, a waitress materializes out of nowhere and asks us for our order. I vaguely register Trent saying something before she disappears again. It’s like there’s a bubble around us, shutting out everything but my awareness of this man. All else fades into the background, noises and colors muted.