Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
His lips break from mine, and he sucks on my lower lip. I moan when he brings his teeth down and gently bites. As shameful as it is, I can’t help pressing my hips into him, needing more friction. He releases my lip and works his way down my neck, his lips warm as he presses them against my skin. Inch by inch, he drags his lips down until they brush along my collarbone.
Through my thin blouse, he sucks on my skin and bites down. A moan falls off my tongue before I can stop it.
“Tell me what you want?” I’m breathless, my question coming out more like a plea. “Tell me—”
“I want an apology.”
His words are like an ice bucket dumped over my head. My body becomes rigid, and I pull away, pushing him off me. “You want an apology?”
“Yeah, a fucking apology. You left me in that room.”
What an asshole. “And you deserved it,” I spit out, adjusting my shirt.
“I’m gonna have to disagree on that one, sweetheart—”
“I am definitely not your sweetheart. You disgust me.”
“Is that so?” His nostrils flare as he glares at me.
“What? Shocked someone is immune to your bullshit?”
“My bullshit? Sweetheart, you’re the one babbling bullshit. You were just putty in my hands two seconds ago, begging me for—what was it? Certainly wasn’t an apology. You want me.”
I throw my hands up. “Give me a break. You’re nothing more than a washed-up playboy. Maybe a washed-up football player too. What happened? No one bowed in your presence or rolled out the red carpet whenever you entered a room, so you ran home?” His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding. I hit a nerve. Good. He deserves everything he gets. “Don’t have anything to say now? Maybe you should—”
“You know what, fuck this.” His glare is cold as ice as he turns and storms out.
Chapter 8
Ben
“This party’s gonna be sick. Check out my shirt. No way I’m not hookin’ up tonight. Not to mention, my hair is on point,” I brag to Kip and Chase.
Hannah and her little sidekick turn the corner. “Party, huh? Do Mom and Dad know?”
“It’s none of your business, Hannah. And you say anything, you can kiss any favors from me goodbye.” Hannah waves her brother off and continues down the hall.
“Dude, you don’t think she’s gonna—”
“Kids! Time for dinner,” Mrs. Matthews calls from the kitchen.
Makayla maneuvers past me and says, “The only thing that shirt is getting you is vomited on.” She throws the lame jab and walks off into the kitchen.
I look down at my shirt. “What? This shirt is awesome.”
“Dude, come on.” Kip slaps me on the chest. “Eat fast. Keep the chatting to a minimum. Then we’re out.” We take our usual seats at the table. Of course, I’m always at the end of the table across from Makayla. She sneers at me, and I grant her a sugary smile.
“So, boys, what are you up to tonight?” Mrs. Matthews asks. I shovel in the lasagna so we can get to Megan Miller’s party.
“Probably just heading up to the Shake Shack. Get some milkshakes and hang,” I say, offering Kip’s mom my award-winning smile.
From across the table, Makayla scoffs.
“Yeah, right,” Hannah says. “I heard you all talking. You’re going to a party.”
Kip glares at his sister. Makayla smirks over her next bite of food. I steal a glance at Kip, wondering if Hannah just killed our plans.
“A party, huh?” Mr. Matthews chimes in. Shit. We’re not going anywhere. Leave it to Kip’s little sister to sell us out.
“Mom, it’s not a party. It’s just some friends hanging out.”
“Are any parents going to be there?”
I look across the table at Makayla. She’s about to open her damn mouth. I swear, if she ruins this night for us. . . “Don’t even think about it,” I lean in and whisper.
Her eyes gleam in challenge. “A party, huh?”
“Yeah, a party. Ever heard of one? Of course not. Who would invite you?”
She sneers at me. “Please. I’ve been to a party. They’re lame. Like your shirt.”
“What’s wrong, duckling? Jealous? No party for you. While you’re grooming your feathers, I’m gonna have all the girls hanging on me.”
Her cheeks flush. I’m about to chalk this one up as a win when she leans over and says, “Doubt you’re getting any girls with a big stain on your clothes.”
“What st—?”
She knocks her elbow into my soda, spilling it into my lap. “Oh, how clumsy of me. I’m sure Kip has a shirt you can wear. To the Shake Shack, of course.”
“Let’s go. Come on!” Everyone at Jimmy’s Bar shouts at the awful play.
“That was long gone. No way he was going to catch that,” Kip chimes in. I give him a look, as if he knows anything about baseball. “What? He didn’t even have his glove out.”