Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 145257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I’ve seen her do that a thousand times before.
And each time rushes back to me in a heat wave.
Sulli hands me the bottle, and I take a swig. I watch as she spits on the ground. Would she spit out my cum or swallow it?
I think she’d try both.
Cold wind barely pricks my skin. I try to regain some focus by handing her the empty bottle back. I spit the mouthwash in the grass.
She free-throws the bottle into a dumpster we left back at the motel. A basketball court away, and the mini-bottle still lands perfectly in the trash.
I shake my head. “Foul ball.”
“Total swish.” She walks backwards into the woods, a playful smile on her lips. “Race you?”
“Only if you pretend to tie me,” I tell her seriously. “We’re shit-knows where. I can’t lose you out here.”
“Deal.” She holds out her hand for a handshake, but I know better.
I go for it, and before she can clasp her fingers with mine, I drop my hand and run past her.
“Cheater!” she calls out with a grin.
“I didn’t say I play fair!” I yell back.
Darkness is just receding. Light barely rising from the horizon. This has always been my favorite time to run with her. Early mornings with Sullivan Meadows—they’re a strong heartbeat to my life.
Can’t live without them.
Can’t live without her.
She takes what I said to heart and keeps my pace, which definitely isn’t the one she normally sets. She’d be at least a mile ahead of me by now.
We venture further into the woods, on a path that I scoped out last night during my call with Price. Just in case she’d want to do a morning workout.
When Sulli runs, she looks free. Like she’s letting go of every stressor. Every worry. She doesn’t clock her run times as often as her swims. Though, she’s made for the water. That’s undeniable. No asshole can say otherwise.
Not even me.
My soles pound the dirt much heavier than hers. She takes measured, controlled breaths, and each foot down is a stronger, lighter foot forward. She’s physically stronger than any woman I know. And while we run, I can’t stop looking at her.
I skim her up and down. Hot blood courses through my veins. My eyes land on her ass, her legs that flex, her green eyes that give me a you-keeping-up-Kits? competitive smirk.
No I haven’t kept up, Sulli.
I’ve fallen really far behind. It hurts to think that it’s taken me this long to see her. To really see her.
But I know it’s good I didn’t before.
It couldn’t be too early.
I just hope I’m not too late.
Reaching a cluster of trees with moss-covered bark, we both slow to a stop. Fog rolls in, morning light bathing us.
Her ponytail is loose. And she’s barely broken a sweat while my chest rises and falls trying to catch breath. But I can’t blame that completely on the run.
“Not too slow, Kits. You might be able to outpace me next time.” She slugs my arm.
I drink in her strong features.
Her breath hitches.
Inhaling, I say, “I’d only stand a chance if I tie your ankles together.” Brushing a hand through my thick, black hair, the strands just fall back into my eyes. My pulse thumps harder.
She touches her lips. “What’s that look?” She shakes her head, drops her fingers. “I’ve never seen you look at me like that.”
I take a step forward. “Frankly, I should warn you—I’m not a good guy, Sulli.”
She frowns. “In what fucking way?”
I let out a short, brittle laugh. “Oh let me count the ways, string bean.”
“Is one the nickname you’ve recently given me?” She crosses her arms. “Because it fucking sucks and only an asshole would call me a lanky vegetable. One thing I’m not and one thing I hate.”
I smile. “We can add that to the list.”
“How long is the list?”
“Well, I’d probably be getting a lump of coal from Santa if I believed in the big guy.”
“Kits,” she says impatiently.
Stop flirting, Nine.
Okay.
“Seriously,” I continue, “I’m not good. I hate when you brush me off, but I brushed you off for a while because your ex told me to stop flirting with you—remember that?”
“How could I not,” she mumbles hotly.
I nod. “I’m a hypocrite, an asshole, a dick—I’m the bad guy. I don’t deserve your attention, but I’m going to fight for it. You need to know that now, okay?”
“Why does it matter now?” Sulli breathes harder, stepping nearer until we’re an inch apart. I stare down at her, only a couple inches taller. “It’s not like I’m getting with the bad boy. The bad boy doesn’t like the hairy Sasquatch—”
I clasp her waist with two hands and walk her backwards. The abruptness steals her words. Our eyes are locked in thirst and history, years we’ve spent together—the sweetness that she knows from me. What I’ve known from her.