Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Enough,” I hiss. “And yeah, you didn’t force me. You just fucking lied to me. Some might call that cat-fishing, you know.”
Her lips purse. “And some might call sending your eighteen-year-old student pictures of your…” she blushes, that sassiness flickering for a second.
“Well, some might just call that predatory, wouldn’t they?”
My eyes narrow, my pulse thundering and my cock aching at the front of the pants I’ve changed into.
“That a threat?”
“Should it be?” she tosses back.
“I think you’re in way over your head here is what I think,” I growl back. “Lying about shit like this is serious, Waverly.”
Her lips purse again into this—admittedly adorable—little pout.
“Oh, what, are you a victim here, Coach? Poor you got strung along by the big bad eighteen-year-old who dragged you out of your house last night and forced you to come to that bar—that bar where you grabbed me and kissed—”
“Stop it,” I grunt. “Your profile said you were twenty-two and that you lived in Rivington.”
“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, looking away.
Suddenly, something strikes me.
“Why the lies, Waverly.”
She shrugs. “What do you mean? I’m perfectly allowed to use an app to find date—”
“Yeah? Then why all the bullshit, huh?” I growl. “You’re right. Eighteen is old enough to use an online hookup app. So why say you’re twenty-two.”
She swallows.
“Why say you live in a different town.”
She shrugs. “Safety?”
“Oh, safety, is that it? The same kind of safety as heading to a sketchy bar dressed the way you were last night, alone, to meet a stranger so that he could fuck you against a bathroom stall door? That kind of safe thinking?”
She glares at me.
“Uh-uh, Waverly,” I growl, my mind whirling as the pieces come together. “No, I’m not buying it. How many—”
Suddenly, I freeze. My mind wanders back to that first night, where I spotted her picture on the app and swiped left only to find she’d already done the same with me, which lets the app make the connection and put two people in touch. I remember looking at her profile and letting my eyes feast on the array of sexy bikini and lingerie pictures shot from the lips down that she’d put up on her profile. And specifically, I remember thinking what a score it was that I’d matched with her since the app said she’d just joined Sparkr barely half an hour before.
Hold up.
“How many matches, Waverly,” I growl quietly. Her blushing face and that way her eyes get so wide tells me the thread I’m pulling on isn’t just crazy thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean how many guys did you match with.”
She swallows, shrugging. “Lots.”
“I bet,” I growl. “Now tell me the truth.”
Waverly chews at her lip, looking away. “I have no idea; I’d have to check.”
“Great, let’s do that.”
Her eyes snap back to mine. “Wh-what?”
“Let’s see how many other guys besides me you swiped on to, to see how many matches you had. Give me your phone.”
She blushes. “What? No!”
“Then pull it up yourself and tell me.”
She swallows. “I don’t even know how to check that.”
“I do,” I growl, crooking my finger at her. “Let me see your phone.”
“No,” she mutters back.
Our eyes lock, and suddenly, the words are just tumbling out.
“You only matched with me, didn’t you?”
She blushes fiercely, and any lingering doubts I had wash away as my pulse races and my hands close to fists at my sides.
Oh shit.
“How’d you find me, Waverly,” I growl quietly.
She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. “I dunno, you just came up on my list of potential—”
“No, I didn’t,” I groan. “I have nothing connected on Sparkr in terms of address or social media.”
Waverly looks away. “I dunno. It’s location based. I guess you just—”
“Yeah, me and the million other men who live in the general Rockland County area who are also on Sparkr. And the one guy who pops up for you happens to be me, huh?”
Her eyes dart nervously. “Sure looks that way.”
I don’t say a word, and slowly, her eyes slide back to mine.
“You knew my screen name, didn’t you?”
Her eyes go wide, and instantly, I know damn well I’m right. I also know damn well I should not be this hard about that fact.
“I’m curious,” I growl.
“About what,” she tosses back.
“About how your mother would react to knowing you’re on a hookup app trolling your swim coach.”
She smirks. “Really? That’s your play?”
I scowl.
“You’re curious about what my mom would think? You know, while we’re at it let’s ask her thoughts on you sending me pictures of your….” She blushes. “You know. Let’s see how she feels about you sending that to her eighteen-year-old daughter, huh?”
“You’re playing with fucking fire here, Waverly,” I hiss. “And on top of that, you’re being a little brat.”
She stiffens, her brow narrowing.
“Oh, am I?” she throws back. “Well then you know what? Maybe we should go talk to my mom. Maybe I should just go tell this whole school about how you lured me to a bar after sending me very inappropriate pictures.”