Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I’m definitely masturbating later…
“Daisy? Are you listenin’?”
I realize I’ve been fantasizing and not paying attention, the blush rising up my chest to my cheeks has my face on fire.
“Huh?”
“What were you just thinkin’ about?”
“Huh?” I say again. “Nothing.”
His gorgeous mouth slowly curves into a knowing smile. “You little liar.”
How many times is he going to utter those words? He’s said them to me already in passing, this little cat and mouse game that has to go on longer.
“You’re right. I’m lying.”
Drakes eyes get wide. “You’re just going to straight up admit to lying?”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing the past few hours? Confessing all our sins?”
“Our sins? Confessing? All you’ve done is confessed that you lied.”
True.
I nibble on my bottom lip, debating. “Alright. I was thinking about touching myself later because watching you right now makes me want to give myself an orgasm.”
Drake blinks.
He almost comes off his bed, grappling for clothes, practically tripping over himself and his bed. “I can be over in less than ten minutes.”
I laugh. “You are not coming over.”
“Why not?” he whines, bottom lip jutting out as he holds a tee shirt over his body, poised to slip it on over his head. “I’m hard again.”
Hard?
“Are you talking about your dick?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“Yes, my dick.”
“How, though? All I did was use the word masturbate in a sentence.” I laugh again. Part of me just wants to see his reactions. His face is comical as if no woman has ever said the word masturbate to his face before.
“Have you seen yourself? You’re sexy as hell.”
Sexy as hell?
“Uh. I’m in a sweatshirt.” I pull at the thick fabric, cursing my choices for sleepwear, making a mental note to wear something thinner next time. A paper towel, perhaps? Or a camisole?
“Yeah. You look hot.”
I look like shit, but I’m not about to argue with a half-naked Adonis if he wants to compliment me, stained sweatshirt or not.
“Um. Thanks.”
He regards me through the phone, heavy eyebrows drawn into a straight line, making him appear serious.
“You sure you don’t need me to come over for anything?”
“No! I do not need you to come over for anything, least of all banging or nookie.” I yank at the hemline of my sweatshirt, pulling it down over my thighs even though he can’t see it. “Speaking of which. Maybe we should…”
He waits for me to finish my sentence.
“Maybe we should rewind and take it slow. Start over fresh?”
Drake nods slowly. “Whatever you wanna do.”
“Not that I regret fooling around with you, but I think because of the trust issues and getting back in my good graces, we should take it slow.” Because I want to rip your clothes off and have my way with you.
“Trust issues?” he asks, brow now furrowed. “How do I get back in your good graces? How slow?”
“One question at a time.” I giggle. “I don’t mean trust issues in the literal sense. I guess, I mean…because you were pretending to be your brother, we have to sort through what parts were you and what you were faking.”
“I deserve that.”
“And…by slow, I guess I mean, not jumping into bed right away.”
“Not jumpin’ into bed right away?” He lifts his arm and scratches his scruff. “Wait. Were we jumpin' into bed right away?”
My cheeks get warm. “You did just offer to race over here so you could get rid of your hard-on.”
“Facts. I did just offer, but I was willing to do all the work.”
Memories of him hoisting me on the counter at the frat house fill my brain…watching the top of his head between my legs. His hair tickling my inner thighs. His tongue on my—
I must have the willpower of a nun because looking at Drake Colter now I can hardly believe the words “take things slow” are coming out of my mouth. Me, telling him to pump the brakes, basically telling him we need to keep our hands to ourselves to keep our wits about us. Or maybe I just need to keep my wits about me—obviously, I have no control over him.
But I know myself; I’m an affectionate person. Also, occasionally, I’ve been known to have difficulty separating physical from emotional and do not want to confuse the two by being intimate with him before we’ve figured out this mess.
He is way too good looking for his own good. Maybe it would help if you were someone different, someone less physically fit.
Someone less tan.
Someone less popular.
Then maybe I wouldn’t have a hard time keeping his hands to myself.
Ha ha.
Only someone with iron-clad self-control would turn away a guy like Drake Coulter, especially when he is willing to drop everything and come over to go down on me again—for the second time in one night. Asking nothing in return.
Just one good orgasm after the next.