Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I wanted Cash to prove the sparks I’ve felt the past two weeks are real. I just wasn’t brave enough to tell him that after the brutal battering my ego took during my short stroll home with Gabriel.
For the past thirteen years, I’ve viewed him as the character he played on Patterson Drive. Dolby was a kind boy with a stutter, but the handful of times we’ve spoken, Gabriel hasn’t had a pleasant word to say about anyone. He even announced an issue with Professor Ren, and everyone loves her.
Even Cash, who according to Gabriel, doesn’t love anyone but himself.
I love drama—daytime soapies are my favorite—but the bitchiness that comes with an angst-filled storyline isn’t as fun in real life.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when a knock sounds at the door. “Are you okay, Einstein?”
“Yeah. I was…” I’ve got nothing. I switched off the faucet over twenty minutes ago but still haven’t emerged from the bathroom.
I’m saved by my wet clothes slumped on the tiled floor. “Drying my underwear. They’re soaked through.” I can’t see Cash, but I picture his chuckles when soundless shudders vibrate the door. “Not like that.”
A reason for Cash being the only person featured during the flashback of my life is revealed when he murmurs, “Pity.”
He keeps me on my toes at all times of the day and night, and the remembrance—along with the small snippet of alcohol still heating my veins—has me acting brazen.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I sling open the bathroom door, prop my shoulder onto the doorjamb, then declare, “I didn’t want you to teach me how to kiss Gabriel.”
Cash’s head lifts before his brows crinkle. “What?”
That’s it?
That’s the best he can come up with?
“Tonight, when I said I wanted you to teach me how to kiss. I wasn’t referencing Gabriel. I just said I was.”
He looks more relieved than annoyed. “Why?”
“Because of this.” I thrust my hand at his shocked or repulsed expression. I can’t pinpoint exactly which one as I don’t know all his expressions yet, even with me studying them in depth multiple times the past month. “And he was the easy excuse. The simple equation.” I groan before pushing out, “The only person I didn’t need to use my brain on because I stupidly thought I knew him.” When he remains quiet, the deluge continues. “You also said we’d go tit for tat. You passed your exam, so it was your turn to help me ace something. I want to know how to kiss, to return your teases with an idea about what the hell they mean. I don’t want to be a dud.”
“You won’t be a dud, Einstein.” His assurance would be more convincing if it didn’t arrive with a heap of chuckles.
“How do you know that?” When I throw my hands in the air, I sway in an imaginary breeze. “Anytime I kissed my hand in junior high, it ended up covered in spit.” I shut up Cash’s chuckles with a stern sideway glare. “Cash…”
“I’m sorry, okay. I can’t help it.” When worry glistens in my eyes, he lowers his laughter and adds some sincerity to his tone. “You couldn’t kiss bad if you tried, Einstein. You don’t do anything halfhearted, so I don’t see you having an issue with something so simple.” Since his confession only halves the panic roaring through me, he continues speaking, “But…” He keeps me hanging long enough for the tension bristling between us to turn potent. “I’ll teach you how to kiss, if that’s what you want.” When I bob my head way too eagerly, he says, “Tomorrow… if I—”
Over his dramatics tonight, I hurry him along. “Lose, you will teach me how to kiss.”
My eyes bounce side to side while watching his head shake. “I can’t lose.” My thudding heart drops several inches lower when he paces closer to me. “That isn’t something I can do.” I blink back tears when he stops in front of me, angles his head so we’re almost eye to eye, then adds, “And shouldn’t kissing you be in victory, not commiseration? Don’t lower yourself to the consolation prize, Einstein, when you deserve the top accolade.”
Too drunk on the wooziness his compliment caused to care, I’m about to make a fool of myself again. I balance on my tippytoes before sealing my mouth over his scrumptious-looking lips.
My kiss knocks Cash off his feet so well we land on his bed with a thud before my tongue has trekked halfway across his sternly shut mouth.
Chapter 23
Cash
“What the fuck?” My words are switched for a moan when McKayla drags her tongue along the seam of my lips for the second time. Her lips are a little tarty from the tequila she downed but one hundred percent sweet, and the ability to deny that grows even harder when she straddles my lap then grinds down.