Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Nice.
Real subtle, asshole.
“Holy shit you’re hot,” Erik mutters, not really to anyone in particular.
Finally, Kevin makes the connection. “Oh yeah - Molly’s roommate. Also known as: the chick Matthew has a raging hard on for?”
“The fuck, Kevin?” Neve punches him in the bicep to shut him up but it doesn’t work.
“I’m just going by what McGrath told me - lay off. Fucking A Neve,” Kevin grumbles, rubbing his sore arm.
This whole time, I notice Cecelia staring at me in a way she’s never looked at me before: something that looks like wonderment, fascination, and undisguised interest. And I won’t lie – the cock in my pants likes it.
CHAPTER 23
CECELIA
“Trust me. You can dance.”
- Vodka
This is definitely one of those moments that could be categorized as both horrifyingly embarrassing… and totally awesome at the same time.
Nothing can compare to the look on Matthews face right now as his friends continue to shove their feet into their mouths. I’ve heard guys talk shit before – and trust me – this isn’t phasing me one bit.
Okay. Maybe I was thrown off a little when the guy dressed in scrubs (with sperm hanging all over him) declared I was letting my tits fall out on purpose. As if I would do something like that.
That’s totally something Jenna would do; not me.
I can’t get enough of studying Matthew though half lidded eyes. He looks good enough to eat, decked out like a preppy pirate. Not the Johnny Depp, Captain Jack Sparrow kind – more like the lazy ‘I didn’t put much thought into this costume because I look hot in anything I wear’ kind of pirate.
Like he washed up on the shore of a deserted island while he was on a business trip and had to become a pirate out of necessity.
Matthew’s ripped up white shirt (artfully exposing most of his extremely muscular chest) is tied off at the waist by a thick red sash. His khaki’s – which are now soaking wet from the beer he spilled when I smashed into him – are cut off just below the knee and are ripped apart to the point it looks like he may have run them through a paper shredder.
Messed up hair. Black laced up boots on his feet.
Black eyeliner on his eyes.
And… holy shit. I’ve never admitted this to anyone out loud (nor will I ever) but guys wearing eyeliner totally turns me on. Just looking at him right now is making me hot.
I would totally let him plunder my treasure chest.
Pretty sure I wouldn’t mind if he dragged me out of here by my hair. I mean: pirate and mermaid?! Kind of the perfect pair, right?
Lost in my own thoughts, it takes me a few seconds to realize the guys are still arguing and punching each other like a bunch of middle school adolescents.
The cute guy with the ‘Free Mammograms’ sign hanging around his neck is rubbing his arm and grumbling “I’m just going by what McGrath told me - lay off. Fucking A.”
I can tell he has a carefree way about him, and, despite the fact that he’s offering to feel girls boobs at a party (albeit for free), he is giving off a strong ‘I’m one of the good guys’ vibe. I’m guessing he’s the guy no one takes seriously - but is probably a really good friend.
And his earlier ogling of my breasts notwithstanding, I study him a bit longer, finally deciding he might be a good match for Jenna tonight, and chew on my lower lip. Matthew and Neve both continue glaring at the poor guy – and if looks could kill, he would be dead.
Regardless, they obviously think well enough of him to drag him to an upscale party.
I clear my throat, even though they couldn’t possibly hear it over the music, and indicate the place Molly and Weston & Co. are holed up on the other side of the room. “I was just going to the bathroom, but if you keep walking that way,” I point in the general direction. “Weston and a few other guys are standing in the corner.”
Matthew steps towards me. “I’ll walk with you.”
Neve raises his eyebrow.
Matthew shrugs innocently. “What? It’s dark out…”
He places his hands on the small of my back as Raging Fire by Phillip Phillips comes blasting out of the sound system. It kind of feels appropriate, and as we walk out of the giant reception tent and into the dark October night, I absorb the words of the song.
Granted: we’re walking towards a Port-a-Potty so I can pee, but still – the girl in me can turn any moment into a romantic one.
His hand still at the curve near my ass is turning my damn body into a Raging Fire, and I resist the urge to wiggle it. I don’t know if it’s being near Matthew, or the song, or the fact that a soft breeze is brushing the naked skin above my corset that’s making me think about getting naked… but Matthews fingers are branding my skin in a slow burn - and instincts tell me I’ll still be feeling them later. You know - when I’m all alone back in my apartment.