Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He nods. “Well put.” I watch as he takes another sip from his glass, before he pushes away from the table and saunters over to me. He sits beside me. So close, the cushion I’m sitting on sags from his weight.
My pulse quickens ever so slightly. In my quest to hear him speak truth and to maybe get to know him better, I continue my line of questioning.
“Do you believe we should lower the drinking age in America? I mean, European countries allow their citizens to drink alcohol at the age of eighteen. Why are we stricter?”
He takes another small sip. I watch as his lips close on the glass. I watch as he swallows, mesmerized by the sexy column of his neck. He unbuttons the top button of his shirt, loosens his tie, and yanks it off.
It feels like foreplay.
Zing.
“I believe that it doesn’t make logical sense to allow people to enlist in the military before they’re supposedly old enough to drink. So I’d share your reasoning for lowering the drinking age in America, with a caveat that if we’re going to expect more from our youth, and no longer truly classify them as youth at the age of eighteen, that we stop coddling them and make them bear responsibility much sooner than we, as a society, currently do.”
Oh, I love it when he gets all stern. No coddling. Nope, no siree.
Yummy.
“Oooh. That’s good.” I nod. “Yeah, I mean, I was on my own at eighteen, had my own apartment and car and job.” There was no living in my mama’s basement.
“Same.”
“What about artificial intelligence?”
I’m so smooth, y’all. So. Smooth.
His lips twitch. “Artificial intelligence?”
“Yes. Do you believe the advent of artificial intelligence is a societal benefit or travesty? I mean, we have apps now that chat with people in lieu of customer service, websites that will help you navigate your bank account, and you can even get therapy sessions powered by psychological research paired with A.I.”
He nods, taking another thoughtful sip of his drink. “I think, like most advances in technology, we must keep in mind that all gains come with a loss. Where accessibility may be the benefit of artificial intelligence, the loss of human interaction has to be mitigated in some other way.”
“Ooh. Fair point.”
He smiles at me, and for the first time, I realize he’s got the teeniest little dimple in one cheek.
“You should smile more often,” I whisper, unable to stop myself. “You have a little dimple in your cheek that no one ever gets to see.”
His voice lowers. “Maybe I don’t want people to see it.”
“I want to kiss it,” I whisper, my interrogation completely forgotten.
“Don’t you want to ask me about alternative forms of energy and fossil fuels? Whether or not children should be subjected to standardized testing? Whether or not citizens have a right to universal healthcare?”
I’m in his lap. How did I get in his lap?
I love his lap.
Oh, it’s such a nice lap, so sturdy and strong and warm and masculine. I’m straddling him, and it feels right. His loosened tie’s in my hand. I feel drunk, like I’ve been the one sipping his whiskey, when the whole time, he’s been the one drinking, not me. I feel all kinds of aroused when I lower my mouth to his and do what I’ve been dying to. Kiss the corner of his smile.
His glass is gone now. He must’ve placed it… somewhere.
I don’t care.
And instead of holding his drink, he’s holding me, his strong hands around my waist as he moves so his lips meet mine. And as he kisses me, I slowly, so slowly, begin to tease him by moving my hands ever-so-carefully behind my back. I want to see what he’ll do if I tie his wrists. He’s the type that likes these roles reversed.
But my plans quickly go awry. Seconds away from tying the knot that would incapacitate him, he stiffens, strong fingers grasp my wrists, and the satin tie’s yanked away.
He isn’t kissing me now.
“What are you doing, Samantha?” he asks, his mouth to my ear. I shiver as the low vibration of his voice travels down my spine.
“Who, me?” I say, unable to mask the grin in my voice. “Nothing.”
“You set me up.”
What. Me? No.
Then three things happen at once. The air whooshes around me, I find my chest pressed up against his thighs, and my wrists are unceremoniously pinned to my lower back.
“Did you think you’d trick me, baby?” He clucks his tongue, and in one quick move, ties my wrists to my lower back with the tie.
Wait. How did this happen? He just flipped my plans upside down.
He’s a big man, I knew that going in. But what I didn’t anticipate was how deftly a man of his size can move. I further didn’t anticipate myself lying helplessly over his lap, staring at the perfect way his floorboards line up, and why does it feel so nice to have my belly pressed up to his knees?