Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
But tonight…tonight everything is surreal. Ethereal even. With alcohol still buzzing through my veins, ignoring my mortification is doable. I’m trying to form a response when Ashton beats me to it.
“I cut her off.” He slides an arm along the back of the booth, and his fingers brush my shoulder. A tingle of awareness shoots through my system, from the nape of my neck to the aching core of my sex.
I tell myself it’s from the alcohol.
I’m not breathless and jittery from the heat of Ashton’s mindless caress.
“I think she’s had enough.” Reaching across the table for a fry, he rubs his chest against my arm then brings the golden fry to my lips. “Have you had enough, Sawyer?”
My heart adopts a crazy rhythm as I dip forward and take the offered fry, my lips grazing his warm fingers. As I chew, I meet his eyes again.
There’s a challenge in them. A smug glint to match the smirk taking hold of his lips. He’s enjoying this too much. With a gulp, I swallow the fry. But I’m thinking about swallowing something else. His focus wanders to my lips, and I know what he’s thinking. He knows that I know what he’s thinking.
My mouth. His cock. Unfinished business.
Fear barrels through my bravado. Real fear. Not the kind one experiences when faced with a what-if or an unknown, but the kind of soul-numbing terror that blasts through your blood when you realize how badly you fucked up. When you realize that fuck-up could be the beginning of the end of something too important to lose.
A lifelong friend…gone in the tatters of the status quo.
This is why I snuffed out any feelings beyond friendship when I hit my senior year of high school. Ashton and Amanda are like family, my sanctuary against my own disapproving flesh and blood. I’ve witnessed his inability to commit to one girl for longer than a few weeks, and I can’t stand the thought of being a forgotten notch on his bedpost. Nausea rises, thick in my throat.
A few weeks of blissful insanity with him isn’t worth breaking a lifelong bond.
“I…I think I’m gonna get sick.” I nudge Mandy out of the booth before pushing past her to make a beeline for the restroom, wresting my way through the throng of sweaty, moving bodies on the dance floor. Everyone is oblivious to the turmoil rolling in my belly, so maybe if I hide in the ladies’ room long enough, Ashton will be oblivious too.
I cast one last glance across the club to our table and find his intense blue eyes on me. That is not the look of an oblivious man—that’s the look of a man who has no intention of letting me forget what happened tonight.
Chapter Three
Ashton
Sadie comes back looking sicker than she did when she bolted for the ladies’ room. Mandy scoots out of the booth to let her back in, but she doesn’t budge. She doesn’t meet my eyes, either. I have no clue why she pulled that stunt under the table, but I’m still hard as fuck over it, not to mention confused.
“I had too much, guys,” Sadie says. “I’m gonna take a cab home.”
“Like hell you are.” I stand and shoot her a glare. “I’ll drop you guys off on my way home.” Unlike the two of them, I haven’t been drinking.
Willing my dick to settle down, I exit the booth and hand them their coats. The nights in Douglas Falls, Oregon are getting chillier as the leaves change colors, and Sadie is drunk enough to forget her jacket. The last thing I want is for her to get sick.
After they shrug into their jackets, and I settle our tab, I herd my sister and Sadie toward the entrance of the club. Mandy leads the way, winding a path between the tables and dancing bodies. I take Sadie’s hand and pull her along behind me. The place is overcrowded, and I don’t want to risk losing her in the throng of people in her current state of fucked-up.
“Party Monster” by The Weeknd blares through the speakers, the bass vibrating under our feet. Glancing over my shoulder, I take in Sadie’s appearance. Wild red locks riot around her flushed face, and she’s focusing on the dirty floor while we move through the club. I don’t have to see her eyes to know they’re the sexiest hue of jade I’ve ever seen.
And that little black dress. She failed to button up her jacket, and damn, she was out for blood tonight when she dragged that low cut scrap of fabric over her body. Has she always had such a sexy-as-fuck rack?
I don’t even have to answer that question. I’ve known for a while what a knockout Sadie has become.
My Sadie.
I want to grill her and find out what she’s thinking, but she and my sister share an apartment, so there’s no chance for us to work this shit out until tomorrow after Mandy leaves for her weekend job tatting skin. Sadie, no doubt, will be hungover in bed. I plan to attack then and hopefully get some damn answers.