Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“He left a few minutes before you got home.” Jesus, I really didn’t like Brax’s brother. He clearly didn’t give a shit about all the pressure already on Brax’s shoulders.
“You should just head out.” Brax moved toward the kitchen. “I can’t do shit until I get rid of this mess. It’ll drive me crazy.”
This was one hundred percent where I should exit, but instead I set my backpack on the couch and said, “I can help.”
“Shut up.”
“Geez, I was expecting at least a no-thank-you.”
“This isn’t your responsibility.”
“I don’t think it’s yours either.”
His dark brows pulled together. “It’s my house.”
“No offense, but your brother sucks.” I pushed the sleeves up on my Lacrosse Kings T-shirt. “He didn’t give a shit when you were sick, and now he leaves this mess from a party I’m pretty sure you had no part of, while you were going to visit your grandma.”
As soon as I said the words, the air in the room thickened around me.
“How do you know about her?”
I looked at him, his eyes stormy with an expression I couldn’t read. “Asher mentioned you were seeing her, said you usually stay all day. That’s really—”
“Oh my God. Do not say something nice to me.”
I laughed. “Thank you, for stopping me before I did that. It would have been painful.”
“Not as painful as hearing it,” he replied, then…smiled, without trying to hide it. Fuck, Brax was sexy when he did that. “We are so weird.”
Yeah, we were, but for whatever reason, we worked that way. “Where’s a trash bag?”
“Lacrosse…”
“Oh my God. Do not say something nice to me,” I repeated his earlier words.
He didn’t. He just went into the kitchen, grabbed a bag, and handed it over. I started cleaning up the trash while he did the dishes.
“Who’s the dish bitch now?” I teased, and he flicked soapy water at me.
I couldn’t help wondering how much this happened. His house had been a mess when he’d been sick too. How often did his brother have parties? Did he ever clean up after himself, or was it always Brax doing it for him?
We chatted some. The whole time I had to force myself not to ask questions, not to muse about his grandma or all the bits and pieces of Brax’s life that I’d never considered before getting to know him better.
When I was done with the trash, I rinsed while he continued to wash. Working together, it didn’t take us long to finish up. When we did, he tossed me a towel and grabbed another so we could dry our hands.
“So…homework?” I fake-gagged.
He shook his head before asking the last thing I expected from him, “Do you want to get out of here for a while?”
“Sure. Where to?”
“Hold up a sec.” He went to the garage, coming back a second later with a motorcycle helmet.
When he tossed it my way, a fireworks display went off beneath my skin. The thought of riding Brax’s bike with him was hot as hell.
“You scared?” he asked.
“Fuck no.”
“Let’s do this, then.” On the way out, he grabbed his leather jacket, then handed another one to me, which I immediately put on.
We made our way outside, Brax locking the door behind us. He tugged his helmet on, turning to check mine afterward to make sure I latched it correctly. He swatted my hands away, tightening the straps on my chin. It was half sweet and half gross because I could take care of myself.
Without a word, he threw one leg over the bike, started it up, then nodded toward the back, and…Jesus, my dick was plumping up. It would be an interesting afternoon.
I climbed on behind him, legs squeezing, arms wrapped tightly around Braxton. I didn’t know where we were going, and I didn’t care. I liked this Brax. The one who didn’t seem quite as brooding, who wanted to hang out without getting begged to do it.
I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. There was a kernel of fear inside me, but strangely, I trusted him. Or hell, maybe I just wanted to look badass to him, didn’t want him to know that part of me was nervous. Also, I knew my dad would hate the idea.
Brax walked the bike backward out of the driveway, then sped off down the street. My heart jumped into my throat, throbbing there and echoing throughout my whole body. My stomach flip-flopped as Brax headed for the Pacific Coast Highway. I wasn’t sure how fast we were going, but it was…fuck, it was freeing, like stress and tension I didn’t know I was carrying fell away, evaporating into the asphalt with each mile he drove.
The ocean was to our left, the scenery changing as we went, from sand and beach to bluffs and rocky cliffs. The smell of salt water filled my senses, along with the heat of Brax’s body.