Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
My heart thunders in my ears. I’m barely able to stand. The pressure between my thighs is so heavy, so great, that I squeeze them together, or else I’ll moan.
“Thanks again for the shirt,” he says, pulling the door open and stepping away.
What the actual hell?
My stomach drops. My jaw goes right along with it.
He makes no move except to blink.
This asshole.
I look at him, narrowing my eyes and smiling facetiously. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I’m out.
“You’re very welcome,” I say.
With that, I pivot and quickly exit his home.
CHAPTER NINE
JAY
This is a nightmare.” I sip my coffee in the same way I would if I were watching a train wreck. Because, really, it’s about the same thing. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that.”
Gabrielle climbs a ladder leaned against the house. The legs aren’t on even ground, and there’s no way it’ll stay vertical once she’s up more than a few rungs. My stomach churns and I hold my breath.
One step. Two.
“Shit,” I hiss as she starts to wobble.
She looks over her shoulder. Then she slowly descends back to the ground. Once her feet are planted on the soil, I breathe a sigh of relief.
My attention slides to the back of the house, where Dylan sits on the edge of the deck. He’s looking at a drill like he’s never seen one before. Maybe he hasn’t.
“Stop looking,” I mutter aloud, turning away from the window. “It’s not your problem.”
I force myself into the living room—a space that has no view of the house next door. I’ve found myself watching them most of the morning like an obsessed lunatic.
It doesn’t matter that I have nothing to do today and could so easily have their tasks done in a few hours. It doesn’t matter at all. Why? Because I’m not getting involved.
Because I almost fucking kissed Gabrielle last night.
Despite that moment being twelve hours ago, I haven’t managed to settle down. I’m still buzzed on adrenaline.
I don’t know what happened or what came over me. I don’t lose control like that. But my lips were inches from hers when reality pummeled me and I realized what I was doing.
Maybe I got sucked into the moment. Maybe her realness, her vulnerability, softened me. It’s been a long time since anyone was that open, that honest.
“I just want to feel like a woman again. Love isn’t necessary. I just want a reason to get dolled up on Friday nights. I want someone to laugh with, cuddle up to—someone to have fun sex with.”
My jaw tenses. So does my cock.
My self-restraint was the only thing soft.
“I might have to move,” I say, shaking my head. “If I can’t figure out how to handle this, I’ll pack up and head elsewhere. Alaska is nice this time of year.”
But even Alaska probably isn’t far enough away to erase her from my mind.
The problem is that Gabrielle would be an amazing woman to spend time with if I were ready to do that. But I’m not. When I imagine holding her in my arms, having her in my bed, losing myself inside her . . . it’s immediately followed by a sickness that’s all too familiar.
It’s one I don’t want to have again. I don’t think I’d survive it.
“You have to hold the screw in place a second, Dylan,” I say, realizing I’m back at the kitchen window. The screw drops to the ground again. “Come on, kid. YouTube it or something.”
I glance back to the front of her house and nearly choke.
Gabrielle is standing on the front lawn, facing her house, with a sledgehammer.
“Oh, fuck it.” I slam my mug on the counter and charge out the door. “You can’t leave well enough be, Jay. You’re going to have no one to complain about except yourself.”
Gabrielle looks up, propping a hand on her hip, and all but scowls. She’s not happy to see me.
“What in the world are you doing?” I ask, marching across the lawn.
“What’s it to you?”
“I don’t know. Call me a concerned citizen.”
She makes a face that tells me to fuck off. “It’s demo day. So if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Look,” I say, frustration growing. “I know demo day is cute on all the home renovation shows. But in the real world, all that smashing something with a sledgehammer is going to do is make a bigger mess to clean up.”
“And?”
I roll my eyes. “What are you trying to do?”
“Right now, I’m trying to get a very nosy and unwelcome neighbor to leave me alone.”
Her little jaw is set in place like a wannabe badass. Her tits are about ready to spill out of her skewed tank top. She has a pair of safety goggles dangling around her neck and boots on—with her shorts. It’s hard to keep a straight face.