Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I wonder where he’s going,” I say as we head out of town on one of the back roads.
“Don’t know,” she mumbles, watching the truck in the distance, which pulls into a large parking lot that is packed with cars. That’s when I remember it’s a Friday night. I pull in and park a few spaces behind him then wait until the driver gets out before I open the door to my Jeep. I watch him, taking in what he’s wearing so that I know what to look for if we lose sight of him inside.
“Just so you know, I’m firing you on Monday,” I tell Kayan as I realize the outfit I have on.
“You look smoking hot,” she whispers, but I can tell she’s nervous as well.
I shake my head, slam the door, and head into the building. The moment we walk though the door, the loud country music hits my ears. I follow the guy toward the bar, feeling every single person in the bar looking at Kayan and me. Hell, if I were them, I would be looking too. It’s not everyday you see two chicks dressed like cat-women walk into a country western bar.
“Your dad’s in back, bud,” the bartender tells the guy we followed here. He looks probably twenty-five. He takes his hat off and runs his hand over his hair then gets up and starts walking toward the back of the bar. I start to follow him, when an arm bands around my waist and breath whispers against my ear.
“Where you going, pretty girl?”
I elbow the guy holding me then back up, grabbing Kayan’s hand and pulling her with me toward the restrooms saying. “You’re really getting fired.” As my gaze connects with Wes’, who is standing near a pool table talking to some guy, his eyes sweep over me, and even from across the room, I can see anger enter his handsome features.
“Oh no,” Kayan whispers, and I remind myself to start looking for a new receptionist and best friend on Monday after I have a full-face transplant.
“Run,” I breathe.
“What?”
“I said run!” I cry, and we both turn and start toward the front of the bar. We get down the hall, almost to freedom when I’m suddenly pulled back into a hard body.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” is growled near my ear, making my whole body shiver.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to get away.
“Z, watch her,” Wes tells a tall guy with a bald head and tattoos that run from his neck and down his arms, which you can see from the white tank and leather vest he has on. His arm muscles look even more intimidating as he stands, crossing his arms over his chest while looking down at my very petite best friend.
“That’s not necessary; we were just leaving,” I say as I’m walked backwards into the men’s restroom through a swinging door.
“Out,” Wes growls to some guys who are standing near the urinals. They all look between Wes and me, zip up their pants quickly, and then rush out of the room.
“That was rude,” I mutter, then my breath comes out in a whoosh as my body is pressed into the wall behind me.
“What are you doing here, July?” he rumbles.
I feel the vibration of his words against my chest as he speaks, and I ignore the butterflies that have erupted in my stomach since seeing him. “I wanted to learn how to line dance?” My answer sounds more like a question.
“Don’t lie to me.” He presses deeper into me, and I can feel every hard inch of him through the thin material of the bodysuit I have on. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes closed, trying to get my body back under control. “There are some fucked up guys here right now, babe, and you can’t be here.”
I open my eyes and search his face. “Are you in trouble?” I ask, and his eyes sweep over me as he mutters, “Yes,” making my insides turn liquid.
“Wes, you’re too close,” I whimper, feeling like his presence is suffocating me.
“Not close enough, baby,” he whispers back as his hands framing my waist press in deeper and his erection presses into my belly.
“Oh, God,” I moan as his face lowers and his mouth hovers over mine, his breath brushes across my lips, making me crave him in a way I never, ever thought possible.
“Don’t,” I tell him, closing my eyes, and after a long moment, I open them back up and meet his eyes when I realize that he didn’t kiss me like I expected him to.
“I’m gonna walk you out to your car. I want you to go right home, and don’t ever come back here again,” he tells me, placing his forehead to mine.
“I—”
“No, babe, you need to swear to me that you will never come back here again.”