Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
So I grab her hand and move it to my belt, pressing it against my hip so that her palm flattens out. My body leaps when one of her fingers dips inside my waistband for half a heartbeat. This girl makes me weak in the fucking knees.
“Sorry!”
“Don’t be.” I clear my throat. “I like a good fondle.”
She’s smiling again, the discomfort melting from her face, and there’s a catch in my chest. “You a master of that too?”
“I am indeed. Which is lucky for you because—and I say this with love—you’ve got some practicing to do.”
Sally bites her lip. “Fondling is not my area of expertise, no.”
“You just save the lives of animals and shit.”
“Some shit like that, yeah.”
I sway to the music a little. Just enough so that she doesn’t realize when she starts swaying again too.
Dang, I like her hands on me this way.
I wanna put my hands on her. But that’d be crossing into dangerous territory. Beck’ll be watching us whether or not I touch Sally, mostly because I’m about to show her a damn good time.
And a beautiful woman having a good time at a bar? No man in his right mind can resist that.
Sally’s doing a good job of keeping her eyes locked on mine. The extended eye contact is unnerving, but I…kinda like it. Feels like I’m edging myself. How much can I take before I pop a woody and come in my pants like a teenager?
Sally and I have danced together before, but it doesn’t happen often enough. She’s usually either working or up on the stage, performing with her mom.
For a split second, I allow myself to fantasize that this is real. That Sally is looking at me like this because she wants me, and I’m gonna make her smile and laugh and sweat while we take turn after turn around the dance floor. Then I’m gonna take her home. Lay her down. Give her what Beck Wallace can’t.
“You good if I give you a spin?” Because I’m a masochist, clearly.
Sally scrunches her brow. “Yes. You don’t need to ask.”
“A guy should always ask if it’s okay to touch you.”
“Okay, Dad.”
I grab the wrist of the hand she’s got on my chest. When I wrap my first finger and thumb around it, I’m struck by how delicate she is here. How small. The pads of my finger and thumb touch with room to spare.
I can feel the uneven beat of her pulse against the inside of my thumb knuckle.
“Daddy is fine. Dad is not.”
Sally lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m scared to ask if you’re serious.”
“I’m dead serious when I tell you not to call me Dad again. C’mon, Cinderella. Time to dance at the ball.”
Letting go of her wrist, I curl my hand around hers so that our tangled fingers are clasped against my chest. Her palm is warm. The kind of soft that makes my chest tight.
Her gaze wavers, falling to our hands before moving back up to my face.
“What?”
“Your calluses.” She runs her thumb over the top part of my palm. “They’re insane.”
“Too rough?”
Her brown eyes glitter. “Yeah. But I think I like it.”
“Do not elaborate.” I bite the inside of my cheek. I pull our hands over her head, forming a bridge with our arms. “C’mon, Sunshine. Give me what I want.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Dear God. “What did I tell you about—”
“I thought Daddy was okay?” Her eyes dance.
She’s teasing me, and I fucking love it.
When am I gonna stop feeling like a lovesick asshole?
“Changed my mind. It’s definitely not okay.” I give her hand a tug, encouraging her to spin already. “God forbid my brothers overhear you calling me that.”
Sally turns, a big old smile on her face as she mouths the words to a Post Malone country song. She glances around the bar as she moves, her gaze catching on something—someone—before returning to my face.
“He’s watching,” she says, definitely breathless this time. “Beck.”
My gut clenches. Instinctively, I pull her close and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. “Good.”
“Your girlfriends are watching too. I hope I’m not stepping on any toes?”
I look at our feet. “Not yet.”
“Aren’t you clever?” she deadpans.
I look back up to see her grinning at me. “Sure am.”
“Cocky.”
“It’s working, isn’t it?”
She lifts a shoulder. “It is actually.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh, Wy, wait. I think it’s working too well. He’s coming over.”
My head snaps around so fast that my neck cracks. Sure enough, Beck is heading our way, his eyes narrowed playfully as they devour my best friend from head to toe.
“Do you not want him to come over?” I bite out.
“No, I do. I definitely do. I’m just—now I’m nervous.”
He makes her nervous? Man doesn’t deserve to lick her boots.
I don’t realize I’m squeezing Sally’s hand until she lets out a little yelp.