Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
I looked down at the faint line marking my left ring finger. The token I was left with now that I no longer wore my ring. It was subtle, thanks to my naturally pale skin, but to me it stood out like embers glowing in the dark.
I hated it. I didn’t need a reminder of how I’d failed as a wife. Or how Marcus stopped seeing me as one.
Maybe I could coat my entire hand in sunblock except for that thin strip. Burn the memory away.
The idea seemed promising enough to consider.
From my back pocket, my cell beeped with an incoming message.
I wiped the tear from my cheek as I stood and palmed my phone, expecting to see Tori’s name lit up on my screen.
I froze on the step, my free hand on the railing as I stared curiously at the message and the number it was sent from.
Wild Girl. Eaten any innocent men alive today yet?
My lip twitched, the hint of a smile.
I sat back down, reading the message a second time as I remembered my conversation with this stranger yesterday. My accidental verbal beat-down.
Jesus. I really let him have it.
I couldn’t think of the last time I was that embarrassed.
I told the guy to remove a dildo from his mouth, for Christ sakes.
All in all, whoever this was seemed to be a good sport about it. He could’ve laid into me and cussed me out. Made me feel even more like a complete shit for dialing the wrong number and not confirming the identity of my intended victim before I tore into him like he owed me money.
He was more than decent about the whole thing. Easily forgiving.
And now he was messaging me out of nowhere and striking up conversation.
Wild.
He wanted to talk to me.
Huh.
I tapped my thumb on the edge of the phone case, then hovered over the letters of my keypad as I stared at the message.
Did I even want to talk to this guy anymore? Wasn’t this weird? We didn’t know each other. Our encounter was a mistake. A onetime mishap, never to be repeated.
Right?
Chapter Three
BRIAN
I passed out last night pissed off and ready to beat the shit out of my best friend/roommate, who didn’t understand the premise of fucking quietly in the bedroom down the hall.
Moans and earsplitting screams echoed off the walls of our beach house, seeping underneath the crack of my door.
Filling my fucking head. Keeping me awake.
Nothing was unusual about that scenario. Jamie brought home lots of women, and I swore to Christ he tested out their vocal range before even considering their pussy as a temporary home for his dick. The louder the better seemed to be his philosophy.
I didn’t give a fuck what he did, or who. I just didn’t want to hear it.
Taking every pillow I owned, I submerged my head and muffled the sounds well enough to fall asleep.
Six hours, that was all I was asking for. Six hours and I could function enough to push through another mindlessly objectionable day in the life I was slowly living. Quickly hating. And unarguably deserved.
I barely settled into a dream when the shrill ring of my cell phone jerked me upright in bed.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, for my hand to seek out the bastard device on my nightstand. I didn’t recognize the number. I was fucking exhausted and could barely focus on the screen my thumb was hovering over.
I almost let the call go to voice mail. I almost said to hell with it and shattered the fucking thing by hurling it against the wall.
Thank fuck I didn’t. I would’ve missed out on the most amusing conversation I’ve ever had and, quite possibly, the most perverse.
And the voice that gave it to me.
Unfuckingreal.
Didn’t know what did it, the vulgar she was throwing at me, her fiery tone that paired with it, or the sweetness I heard underneath, but I was hooked. Every muscle in my body tightened as her voice seeped into my ear and awakened my mind.
Fuck sleep. I was no longer interested.
That feisty thing on the other end of the phone was filthy and unquestionably infuriated, ready to sink her claws into me and draw blood.
I would welcome an assault from her with arms outstretched and the biggest grin smeared across my face. I couldn’t help it. She was fucking fantastic. Passionate in her defense. Silver-tongued and ballbusting.
My ears weren’t the only parts of me enjoying that conversation.
I wanted to taste her voice. I thought about what her lips looked like as those words left her, if they were pink and wet and swollen and if she bit them while she was silent and waiting, hearing out my objections.
Strange how quickly an obsession can build.
One phone call had me reeling, and it was never even meant for me.