Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Hank is between songs, so I can hear Greer say, “Whoa, whoa. Wait a sec, I’m—um, stop, please?”
I must black out. Next thing I know, I’m giving Mike from Richmond’s shoulder a hard shove. He falls back, cursing.
“She said stop,” I bark, pulse thumping in my chest, my head. My breath comes in hot gusts. “That’s when you fucking stop.”
Greer tugs on my arm. “Brooks—”
“We’re leaving.”
“What? But I’m—”
“I said we’re leaving.” I shoot daggers with my eyes at Mike from Richmond. “She didn’t give you consent, asshole.”
“Nobody asked you, asshole.” Mike gets in my face. “And I did stop.”
I’ve got a good six inches and fifty pounds on the kid. I could pin him, no problem. Really teach him a lesson. But I don’t want to upset Greer, so instead I lean down and hiss, “Not from what I fucking saw. Don’t come near her again. Understand?”
Even through my jacket and sweater, I can feel Greer’s nails curl into my arm. “Brooks, that’s enough.”
“Do. You. Understand?” My voice is deadly calm. His friends are gathering behind him now. Their gazes are hazy with just enough alcohol that I know a fight’s about to break out.
But Mike doesn’t get to answer my question. Or punch me for that matter. Greer gives my arm a mighty tug. I fall toward her, only managing to catch myself with my front foot as I fall into step beside her. Together we hustle toward the main house. She crosses her arms.
She won’t look at me. I feel a stab of remorse.
Shit.
I know I went too far. But my chest is still so tight with fury—jealousy—and something else, something I don’t want to think about—I can hardly breathe.
I hold the door open for Greer. Her elbow grazes my stomach. Electricity bolts through me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
But she’s not okay. That much is clear.
She still won’t look at me as we step into the elevator. She presses the button for level 3. The doors close behind us.
We’re alone.
She finally turns to me. The space between us is electric now.
Anger? Arousal? Both?
“What the fuck was that, Brooks?”
You, and only you, turn me into that guy. The crazy jealous one. I don’t know why.
“I was looking out for you.”
Her throat moves as she swallows, eyes wet. It takes everything in me not to reach for her.
“I can look out for myself.”
“You can’t tell me you enjoyed that.”
“What? The dancing?”
“The kiss. Or what passed for a kiss from that shit-heel, anyway.”
The doors open. Greer steps out into the hall, and I follow close behind. The sound of our feet on the carpet is enormous in the dim, hushed quiet of the third floor.
“It was fine.” She keeps her voice low.
“Why’d you ask him to stop, then?”
She comes to a stop in front of her door and faces me, chin tilted up to meet my eyes. “I needed a minute to catch my breath.”
“You needed an excuse to get the hell out of there. I gave you one. The way he was touching you—”
“What?” She leans in. Eyes wide. “Are guys not allowed to touch me? Maybe I wanted to be touched.”
“By him? Really?”
She shakes her head and scoffs. “What was so wrong about—”
“Everything.” My heart pounds. She’s so close I can smell the bonfire in her hair. Smoke. Sweetness. Heaviness gathers between my legs. “If you only knew . . .”
Her eyes flash. “Knew what?”
Fuck. Fuck. I should not have opened this can of worms. But her eyes. That mouth.
How good she smells, and this lightning between us.
“How good it could be.” I search her gaze. “With the right person. Not some random drunk guy you met at a bar, but someone who knows how to kiss you. Touch you.”
Her lips fall open. Eyes flick to my mouth. Flick back to my face. “Then show me,” she rasps. “Teach me how it’s supposed to be done.”
A rush of blood to my head. My dick.
My heartbeat roars in my ears. She keeps hitting on my control kink.
How much longer can I resist playing that role for her?
“Go to bed, Greer,” I say in a low, feral voice I don’t recognize.
Instead, she steps forward. Her jacket is open. The tips of her breasts graze my chest. “You messed up. This is how you fix it.”
“Go to bed.”
“Not until you kiss me.”
“I’m not—”
“Then give me permission to kiss you.”
My cock meets with the zippered fly of my pants, and I groan. How good it would feel to press into her. Sink into her warmth and softness.
“Please.” Her voice—her eyes—they take on a hungry note. Like she’s as desperate as I am. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a good kiss.”
“Forever?”
She rises onto her toes and angles her head, our mouths a hair’s breadth apart. “Just once. Just so I remember what a good kiss feels like.”