Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
He presses my palm tighter to his body, and a moan gets stuck in my throat. I’m mesmerized by the thick ridge beneath my hand. He’s impossibly big. I mean, I guess I expected it. He’s a big guy. Tall, muscular, huge shoulders. Big hands… But that isn’t always a reliable indication of wiener size. I dated a tight end once with bear paws and size fourteen shoes and a teeny little ding dong. The kind of penis that makes you cry real tears because it’s so depressingly disappointing.
Fitz? He doesn’t disappoint. I wish I could wrap my fingers around him, put my mouth on him. But his stupid pants are on, so I settle for rubbing the tantalizing length of him. Just slightly, and yet the fleeting contact is enough to summon a deep, tormented moan from his throat.
“You think it’s fun walking around with this damn thing all day long? You so much as breathe in my direction, and you do this to me. You’re on my mind twenty-four-seven.”
“But…” I swallow. “You think I’m fluff.”
“For fuck’s sake. Are we back to that? I only said that shit to Garrett because I was trying to convince myself not to get involved with you.”
I falter. “Really?” I experience a burst of hope…until the last thing he said registers, bringing a flicker of hurt. My hand drops from his groin. “Why didn’t you want to get involved with me?”
“Because you drive me crazy. Wanting you is exhausting, Summer. Being around you is exhausting.” He throws his hands up before dragging them through his messy hair. “I’m an introvert, and you’re the very definition of social. And exhausting. Did I mention you’re exhausting?”
I frown. “I don’t—”
“Everything okay out here?”
We both whirl around at the sound of Hunter’s voice. Our roommate strides across the lot, my parka slung over one arm. He holds it out for me, and, despite the heat still coursing through my blood, I take the coat and shrug it on.
“Thanks,” I tell Hunter. “And everything’s fine.” I’m dying to look at Fitz, but I’m afraid of what I’ll see.
He solves the dilemma for me by walking to his car. “Make sure Summer gets home safe,” he says.
Not even a backwards glance.
A moment later, his huge body disappears into the driver’s seat, the engine sputters to life, and he peels out of the lot without even waiting five seconds to defrost his windshield.
Tears sting my eyes. I blink hard and fast, but they still manage to break free. The adrenaline from the bar fight (both my fight and Fitz’s) is suddenly sucked out of my body as if someone stuck a vacuum hose on me. It leaves me feeling weary.
Hunter draws me toward him, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “Hey, don’t cry, Blondie.”
I bite my lip, blinking faster to ward off the tears. “Sorry. Adrenaline crash, I think.”
“I get it.” There’s humor in his tone. “I mean, you did kick someone’s ass tonight.”
“Barely.”
His free hand reaches for one of mine. He lightly caresses the inside of my palm with his thumb. “That was so badass of you, by the way. Defending Brenna like that.”
At least someone thinks so. “Thanks.”
He chuckles softly. “Though I’m pretty sure that catfight gave Mike enough spank-bank material for at least a year.”
I make a face. “Oh God, I hope not.”
Hunter’s callused fingers graze my palm before linking through mine. Holding his hand is both comforting and unsettling, but I don’t have the strength to pull away. I’m currently using most of my energy to try to make sense of everything Fitz said before his abrupt departure.
I drive him crazy.
He finds me exhausting.
He wants me, but he doesn’t want to want me.
“Blondie,” Hunter says roughly.
“Hmmm?” My mind continues to race, making it hard to concentrate. Or rather, making it harder to concentrate. My ADHD already gives me a handicap.
“Next Saturday,” he starts.
“What about it?”
“We don’t have a game.” He hesitates. “Do you want to go out that night? Grab some dinner?”
It’s my turn to hesitate. There’s no mistaking his intentions. He’s asking me on a date. And maybe if Fitz wasn’t in the picture, I’d—
Are you fucking kidding me right now! my inner Selena Gomez shrieks.
Wow. A rare F-bomb from her. Inner Selena is usually far more proper and composed. She doesn’t let the exasperating behavior of men affect her pure, elegant way of living her life.
But she’s absolutely right. I have one guy who doesn’t want to want me, and another one who’s proud to declare that he does—and I’m leaning toward the first one?
Why? Really. Why. Why is this even a choice? Hunter is gorgeous. He’s a great kisser. And he’s actually making an effort to be with me instead of running away every chance he gets.
I like Fitz, but he’s too confusing. He thinks I’m playing mind games? He’s gone from telling Garrett he’d never date me, to comforting me about my midterm and offering to help me, to confessing he’s attracted to me and then saying I’m too exhausting to be with.