Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“What do you mean, why? I was bored.”
He was bored? That was all he had to say? He was bored?
“Why do you hate me so much? We barely know each other. I’ve never done anything to you!”
With another flick of that dark, shiny hair, he turned his attention back to whatever he was whisking in that stupid copper saucepan. “It wasn’t about you. You don’t have to take everything so personally. I was bored, and it was fucking funny. You should have seen the look on your face.”
I ground my teeth together, hurtled back to that afternoon in the cafeteria when I’d passed Finn’s table carrying my lunch tray.
I heard one of Finn’s asshole buddies ask, “Is she a hot fuck? I know she plays the good girl, but that rack is fuckin’ sweet.”
Finn had leaned back in his chair and shrugged, noting that I’d slowed to hear his answer, already reminding myself that I couldn’t beat him over the head with my lunch tray.
Then he said it. “Savannah? Hell no. She’s gonna be a virgin till the day she dies. Trust me, she’s a complete prude. It’s the fucking Sahara in that cunt. Don’t bother wasting your fucking time.”
Then he’d slashed me a look with those green eyes, a vivid mossy emerald I’d never seen on anyone else. I’d recoiled at what I saw there—equal parts amusement and vindictive pleasure.
“You did it because it was funny?” I struggled not to scream. The last thing I needed was my mother waking up to see what was going on outside her door.
Another shrug. “Yeah. Obviously. It was fucking hysterical. I thought Murphy was going to cry. He was practically salivating at the idea of getting in your pants.”
“Murphy’s a pig,” I shot back, “but my prom date dumped me because of you. Now the whole school thinks I’m a dried-up prude who’ll never put out.”
Finn slanted me a look under his thick lashes. “You are a dried-up prude who’ll never put out, so really, I wasn’t lying. I was just saving Murphy the time.”
“Do you know how long I saved up for that prom dress? And it’s not like I can go with someone else. No guy in school will go anywhere with me now,” I wailed in furious despair.
Looking suddenly far older than his years, Finn flicked off the burner under his saucepan and turned, crossing his arms over his chest. He leveled that deep green gaze at me. “That’s the kind of guy you want to take you to prom? The kind that’s only looking to get laid? If anything, I did you a favor.”
“You made me a freaking social pariah, you dickhead. And you get to head off to college and start over. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here for another year, and I’m never going to get another date. They all think you’re the fucking king of the universe, and if you say I’m a dried-up prude, it might as well be gospel.”
“Not really my problem.”
That was it. That was one more smart-ass comment than I could take.
I lunged forward, smacking him hard across the face, my hand burning at the impact. Finn didn’t even flinch. He placed his palm flat on my chest and pushed me out of reach.
He didn’t shove, just gently but firmly moved me out of his way. That pissed me off even more.
“I am not a dried-up prude! And I do not have the Sahara in my—” I didn’t have a problem with swearing, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that word to Finn. Never mind that he’d said it in front of the whole freaking cafeteria.
He dropped his arm and studied me, his green eyes appraising, glowing with amusement. I was getting very tired of being the butt of Finn Sawyer’s latest joke.
“You sure you’re not a dried-up prude?” he asked with a lift of his chin. “Prove it.”
I tossed my hair back over my shoulders, setting my hands on my hips so I wouldn’t slap him again. “What kind of moron do you take me for? Prove it? Fuck you. You’re the last person I’d ever—”
Finn’s hand shot out, closing over my arm, yanking me toward him. His mouth hit mine with fury, his palms coming down on my cheeks, holding my face still.
I was too surprised to stop him. Then I didn’t want to.
He kissed me like he wanted to consume me, his mouth raw and rough and hungry. My lips opened under his, my mouth, my body. All of me wanted to kiss Finn Sawyer.
He smelled of vanilla and sugar, of decadence and the dark. His lips were sweet, his tongue stroking, demanding and cajoling until I was pressed to him, my head tilted back, one hand clutching his t-shirt at his waist, my head spinning. I didn’t remember him backing me up to the big table in the middle of the kitchen.