Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I lift a brow as I find two glass tumblers. “That’s a lot of stupid for someone so smart.”
“Tell me about it.”
Ripping open the package of Twizzlers, I pull one out and tear it in two. Mia calls it crazy, I call it garnish. I drop one half into each glass before filling each glass up with an unhealthy amount of Fireball. Normally, she’d be all in my business, micromanaging my work, but this evening, she keeps her distance, which is weird as fuck.
“Call of Duty. Fireball. And you better start talking.”
She shifts on her feet, her dark ponytail bouncing. When in public, she dresses like any other college girl, but when she comes here, she dresses like Mia. I smile as I take in her black Adidas slides over her white knee-high Five Nights at Freddy’s socks. She’s wearing a cheesy red hoodie that swallows her tiny self that reads, “Level 18 Complete.” I’m sure she has booty shorts under there, but all I see are skinny legs and a whole bunch of attitude.
Her gaze is once again on my chest, which makes me feel uneasy. I know I eat a lot of junk, but I’m nowhere near getting a gut. Swimming daily ensures that.
Ignoring her weirdness, I grab our drinks, the bottle of Fireball, and nod at the bag of snacks. We make our way into the living room. As I set up the game, she huffs and puffs. I’m dying to know what has her so riled. By the time I head back to the sofa, she’s already downed her drink and is pouring more.
Oh, fuck.
It reminds me of the night we met.
I start laughing, which makes her giggle.
“You’re an idiot,” she says, unable to stop smiling.
“Says the idiot who told a group of my guys that I was your boyfriend so they’d stop hitting on you at that party.” I shrug. “Pretty idiotic if we’re comparing notes.”
Her brown eyes twinkle. “You went along with it. How was I supposed to know you were into guys?”
“MiMi, baby, I had my tongue down some guy’s throat not five minutes before that.”
She blushes and cackles. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Because you were fighting off the wolves.”
“You were the closest guy who wasn’t hitting on me. I just blurted it out without looking or thinking.” She kicks off her slides and turns on the couch to shove her feet into my lap. “Rub. You owe me.”
I laugh as I take her foot in my hand. “Aaron was so confused when I nodded in agreement. Fucking priceless. I made out with his guy cousin last year, so I’m sure he didn’t know what to think.”
“You have to admit, we were flawless,” she says with pride in her tone. “Held hands and gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes. It was a total soul mate moment.”
“You did save me,” I agree. “My date smelled like beef jerky. I’m not a fan of that shit.”
“Which is why I didn’t kiss you,” she sasses, wiggling her toes in my grip. “I don’t like beef jerky either.”
“We sold those dudes, though,” I marvel. “Thought I’d given up my crooked ways and went straight for the hottie freshman.”
A strange look passes over her face. She tugs her foot out of my lap and grabs her controller. I catch up to her, gulping down the fiery Fireball, and then proceed to whip ass with her on Call of Duty. We play for an hour straight, drinking Fireball and talking shit to the people we’re destroying on the game.
“You should play pissed more often,” I tell her, my eyes glued to the screen. “You’re like a thousand times better than usual. Who are you imagining you’re killing?”
“Brayden and Drew.”
“Brayden I get. I almost killed him before I sent him your way. But Drew? He has nice guy written all over his stupidly sexy face.”
She huffs, pausing the game, and tosses her controller on the table. At some point during the game, she pulled off her corny hoodie and is now in a white cami that shows her black bra underneath. She is, in fact, wearing a pair of black bootie shorts like I figured.
“He was the guy as you probably guessed. I was reckless. Made out with him. Let him, um, touch me.” Her face burns crimson. “I even tasted myself on him when we kissed after.”
I blink at her, shocked at the sudden confession. Now that I know this guy, I imagine the whole scene. Mia dressed to kill as usual when she goes out, with fucking Drew between her thighs. I’m not entirely sure it’s appropriate that blood rushes to my dick at that image.
“Oh.”
Her dark brows furrow. “Oh?”
“What happened next?” My voice is raspy.
“I… I stroked his dick.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit. The visual of Mia’s hand wrapped around Drew’s shaft is enough to make my dick hard as stone.