Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, and he just smiles, shaking his head. “I thought you said she’d been moping?” I turn my attention to Sam, whose bottle pauses at his lips. “She doesn’t look like she’s moping to me.” In fact, she looked like she was having a whale of a fucking time, and doesn’t that just piss me off more? Drink. Forget. Do stupid shit. This time her, not me.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
My lip curls, and I stand, needing to stretch my tight muscles. Both men move in fast, blocking me, worry plastered all over their faces. “Where are you going?” Drew asks.
“Nowhere.” For fuck’s sake. “I need to stretch.” And get a better view.
They relax and ease off, giving me space to breathe, and I search every corner of the bar. Nothing. “I need the men’s,” I say, taking only a few paces, my self-appointed guards following, but I come to an abrupt stop when I see her on the dance floor.
My dying anger bubbles again as I watch her shimmying around invitingly. Flirting without flirting. Giving out messages to men far and wide that she’s up for a good time. My cheeks blow out. I’ve been there—am very familiar with how this sexual dance works.
“I thought you needed a piss?” Drew says.
“Changed my mind.” I rest a shoulder on the pillar and settle in, and the boys start to talk between themselves, leaving me in peace to monitor her every move. And I don’t like her moves. And what the fuck is she wearing? Or not wearing, more like. Her dress is fucking outrageous. Gorgeous on her. Absolutely stunning. And as I glance around the bar, I conclude that every other guy in here thinks so too. I shift against the pillar, uncomfortable, beating back the urge to rip out the eyes of every male within a ten-mile radius. She’s tipsy. People don’t think straight when they’re under the influence. They do stupid shit. And she is doing stupid shit.
I need to get her off that dance floor before some other prick moves in and I’m up for murder. “Where’s my phone?” I hold out my hand to Drew, who happily returns it.
“Cool?” he asks.
“Cool,” I confirm, forcing a smile, satisfying them both. They go back to talking, and I go back to drilling holes into Ava. Once again, she leaves Kate on the floor, heading for the bar alone. More alcohol? Alone? She has absolutely no regard for her safety. None at all. We’ll be having a little chat about that. And the ridiculous dress. And the drinking.
She leans over the bar to order, and I watch as she visibly tenses, freezing in position, her eyes slowly turning this way. She sensed me. Knew I was watching.
She stares at me, and I try so fucking hard to soften my expression. I can’t. There’s just too much bothering me in this moment.
She quickly turns back to the bar, pays, and takes her drinks, and when I expect her to scurry off, she doesn’t. She faces me, and our eyes immediately latch. Her eyes shimmer. I see her chest pump. Her swallows are hard. She absolutely cannot control her reactions to me. And my anger? It’s gone in a single crash of my heartbeat. I push my weight off the pillar and start toward her, jolting when something grabs my arm and tries to haul me back.
“Jesse, no.”
I shrug Sam off with ease, my determination helping, and stalk across the bar. “Don’t run, don’t run,” I whisper, seeing her body engaging, her eyes becoming worried. She discards her drink on the bar, and she’s off, like a horse bolting, running away from me.
“Ava!” I yell, muscling someone out of my way and going after her. I make it to the entrance, but not through the door. Because Sam’s blocking it. “I’m just going to talk,” I assure him, physically moving him out of my way and charging out onto the street. I see her up the road, her arm waving in the air frantically, the fucking ridiculous dress looking even shorter. And she’s alone again. “Ava,” I yell, breaking into a run. She whirls around, sees me charging toward her, and makes off. “Fucking hell. Ava!” She’ll break her fucking neck in those shoes. I increase my pace, gaining on her fast, and seize her around her waist, tossing her onto my shoulder like the animal I’ve become. Her protests are instant, as I knew they would be, but they stand for shit. She better not even think we’re going back to that infuriating sway of acceptance and denial. No way. I saw the look in her eyes as she stared at me. I felt the bullets of desire hit me. She’s not over me at all. I can feel it now, her body touching mine, burning, and anger is only half the reason. For both of us.