Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“One, you’re giving yourself way too much importance in this dude’s life if you believe your criticism will haunt him forever. Either that, or you hang on to embarrassing shit a lot longer than most people, which is a whole other conversation altogether. And two, I’m pretty sure nearly everyone is conflict averse. Conflict fucking sucks.” I cock my head. “Do you want to practice on me?”
“Practice what?” She wrinkles her forehead.
“Being assertive.” I angle myself so I’m facing her. She’s blushing again, a deep, noticeable red. “C’mon, I think this’ll be good for you. I’ll come at you tongue first and let’s see how you handle it.”
Cassie spits out an unequivocal, “No!”
“Nah, this is an excellent idea. It’ll be an exercise in self-assertion and conflict mitigation.” I roll my neck around my shoulders, stretching it out. When Cassie sighs at me, I lift a brow. “What? I need to be limber for this. Ready?”
“No.”
“Great. Here I come!”
I shoot forward with my eyes closed and tongue spearing the air.
Cassie shrieks and pushes my chest, nearly knocking me off the dock. She doubles over in laughter, which makes me chuckle as I regain my balance. Her spirits are lifting, so that’s good, at least.
“Oh my God. Are you sure you’re twenty-three and not an overgrown child?”
“I’ve been informed by my mother that all men are overgrown children until the age of thirty.” I snort. “Or in my dad’s case, still a child in his midforties.”
“So that’s where you get it from.”
“My dashing good looks? Yes.”
“I meant your antics.”
“Antics? I’m trying to help you here, ginger. You need to learn to speak up. Vocalize your needs. Don’t tell me you’re not sitting here wishing you handled tonight differently.” I meet her suddenly troubled eyes. “You regret not saying something, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she confesses. “I wish I said something.”
“Good. Then I’m serious—practice on me. Let’s try again.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Are you going to launch yourself at me with your tongue again?”
“Nah.” I wink. “But get ready for the worst kiss of your life.”
CHAPTER 13
TATE
A few hours ago, I was ordering myself to sustain a platonic friendship at all costs. I guess that plan went by the wayside because, and I could be wrong, I don’t think kissing falls under the platonic category.
In my defense, this can’t be classified as kissing. At least not enjoyable or acceptable kissing. When our mouths collide, it’s pure disaster. Nothing like the hot kiss we shared at the Hartley house, when the feel of Cassie’s soft, warm lips got me so hard I had trouble walking afterward. This kiss is overbearing and sloppy. We’re both having trouble breathing and not in a sexy way. My tongue is like an action star, kicking and punching around in her mouth as if we’re dueling for dominance. It’s actually exhausting.
Her outraged squeal vibrates against my lips. “Ahhh, stop! This is awful!” She shoves me.
I laugh, wiping the excess saliva off my chin. “Nope. We both know you’d never actually say that to him. Try again. Redirect the negative into a positive request. Make it a you issue, remember?”
She’s instantly shamefaced. “Right. I forgot.” Her lips press together in humor. “Sorry I pushed you.”
“All good.” I draw a deep breath to stock up on oxygen, then dive in for round two.
This time, when my tongue pillages its way through her parted lips, I feel a firm touch on the center of my chest. Then she awkwardly eases her mouth away and orders, “Slow!”
I narrow my eyes.
She softens her tone. “I mean, I like it slower.” Then, as if struck by inspiration, a naughty smile tugs on her lips. “I love being teased. Slow kissing is such a turn-on for me …”
Oh man. Those words do something to me. My sweatpants suddenly feel too tight.
“Excellent ad-libbing,” I tell her, my voice coming out a bit husky.
She brightens. “Thank you. What now?”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “I think we practice an even more proactive approach—this one deals with the aggressive entry. When he comes at you tongue first, this is what you do. You touch his cheek to stop him, stare at him, and give him a compliment.”
“About what?”
“Anything. His eyes. His dimples. Anything on his face. Just slow it down before he even gets the chance to Hulk-smash his mouth against yours. Now you’re in the position to get the kiss going, and that means you pick the pace.”
“Genius.”
“I know. Ready?”
Her throat dips as she swallows. When she licks her lips in preparation, I almost groan out loud. Lip-licking is my goddamn kryptonite. I can’t see a woman do that, especially this one, and not want to rip her clothes off.
Platonic, I remind myself. You’re just helping her out.
With a gulp of my own, I adopt my ridiculous pose—eyelids shut, mouth gaping open like a trout’s—and move my head toward hers.