Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“Damn it, Barrett! I need you to work with me here!” I was on the struggle bus, next stop Cry Town. My panic bubbled up in the form of tears as I tried to collect myself. “I just… You can’t… There’s…pizza sauce in my toes… My head… The wedding…I want…”
“All right, all right.” He held up his hands in fearful surrender as my jaw wildly trembled. “Don’t you dare cry, Meyers.”
For months, I feared this moment would come. The moment I fucked up my entire future to the point of no return. I didn’t know how or when it would inevitably happen, but I always sensed a disastrous end looming.
Waking up next to my fiancé’s naked brother in a hotel room two days before our wedding seemed the kill shot that would put my happiness out to pasture once and for all.
“Relax. We’ll just tell Hale nothing happened. He’ll have his usual hissy fit, and then everything will—”
“Get off the bed!” Losing my patience, I shoved him off the mattress. “I’m not ruining my future over one blackout night of whatever the hell this was!”
He clambered to the floor in a heap of muscle and flesh, landing like a pile of broken mannequin parts. “What the hell, Meyers? When did you get so freakishly strong?”
Probably about the same time my future husband warned me of his impending arrival. Barrett shoved to his feet.
I tossed the balled-up sheet at him. “Cover yourself!”
“Stop throwing stuff at me!” He turned toward the bathroom, exposing his bare ass.
I squinted and scrunched my nose in confusion. “Um, Barrett…”
He disappeared into the bathroom. “What?”
The loud echo of him relieving himself broke the silence. I scratched my head, truly confused by what I thought I just saw. “Were we playing with markers last night?”
“Huh?” The toilet flushed.
“Markers?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I searched the disaster area of the floor for clues. Any evidence of the last twelve hours would be helpful at this point. “There’s, um, something on your back.”
“Wha—” He went silent and I imagined him twisting to see the reflection of his back in the mirror. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Barreling out of the bathroom, face furious, flaccid dick swinging like Gonzo’s nose, he charged toward me. “What the fuck is on my back, Rayne?”
My gaze bolted to the ceiling. “For the love of God, my eyes!”
He circled like a dog chasing its tail. “Is it a fucking tattoo? I need you to look.”
“No!” His voice stabbed into my brain like a rogue javelin. “It has to come off.”
“Please.”
Unable to refuse his worried plea, I lowered my gaze. “For the last time, cover yourself! It’s like being in a room with a baby elephant!”
“I need you to look!”
“Then turn around and stop showing me your dick!”
He snickered. “Are you honestly this prude or are you afraid you’re marrying the wrong Davenport?”
“Yeah, I really want the one with a tramp stamp.”
His face paled and he turned, walking backward as he pointed his bare ass at me. “Fuck. Tell me it’s not real.”
“Ew! Stay back!”
“I need you to look closer.”
I instinctively scurried away, pulling the hotel chair between us. “Stop pointing private parts at me!”
“For fuck sake!” He snatched my dress off the bed and shoved it over his crotch.
“Not my dress!”
“I need you to look at my fucking ass!” He shoved the chair away and pointed his butt at me. That was not the work of markers.
“Oh, Barrett.”
“What? What is it?” Now, his voice was the shrill one. “Is it bad?”
The raised, red skin surrounding the inked image looked fresh and irritated. “I think I’m starting to remember.” Yup. It was coming back to me.
“What is it, Meyers?” He twisted trying to see the mark through his blind panic. “I cannot have a fucking tramp stamp! My body is my livelihood!”
I nodded, my brow knit with empathetic regret but my instinct was to laugh so I pressed my lips tight. “I… I think… I think you wanted it.”
“I’m a fucking model! My flawless figure is my instrument!”
At that, I lost it. Laughter punched out of me no matter how hard I tried to hold it in.
“Stop cackling!”
“I think you got it because you thought it would be really funny.”
“Do I look like I’m fucking laughing?”
I didn’t know what to tell him. It wasn’t going to wash off. “I’m guessing you don’t know what it says.”
“How good are you at reading your ass? What does it say?”
The words weren’t the problem. Not really. “Well, it’s a portrait.”
He growled, “A portrait of what? Take a picture with your phone so I can see it.”
Yeah, like having pictures of Hale’s brother’s naked ass on my phone would make this situation any better.
“It’s not that bad.” It was horrible. “The work’s decent and everything’s spelled correctly.”
He growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is it, Meyers?”