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 wonder how long he’s able to have sex. I hear athletes have amazing stamina…
“What’s that look for?” Drake’s voice interrupts. “Why do you look like you’re…”
“How do I look?”
He clears his throat. “Like you’re gettin’ yourself hot and bothered. Would you like to share with the class what’s goin on in that pretty brain of yours?”
Oh, I’m getting myself hot and bothered, alright…
Do I admit that to him?
Sure.
Why the hell not?
“Want to know the truth about what’s goin’ on in my head, Drake Colter?” I say it with a Southern accent and an innocent smile.
“Oh, hittin me with my whole name, are ya?” His grin makes my heart skip a beat. “Alright. Hit me with it. What are you thinkin’ ’bout?”
“Well…you’re right. I was getting hot and bothered.”
I watch as his brows go up. I knew they would, he’s becoming predictable.
“Like turned on?”
I nod, wishing again that I wasn’t wearing a muddy green crewneck sweatshirt and stanky joggers.
“Is that so?” He shifts around on the mattress impatiently. “Are you gonna tell me what those thoughts were?”
I sigh heavily. Dramatically. Twirl a strand of hair as if I were the type of girl who twirled my hair.
“It’s just that every time I move my legs, I feel the beard burn.”
“My beard burn?”
That makes me laugh. “Yes, your beard burn. Has anyone else had their face between my legs tonight?”
His expression is blank. “Is this a trick question?”
“Knock it off!” He’s ruining the mood.
“Okay, okay—tell me more about that beard burn. I’m listenin’.”
He is my captive audience, holding his phone a little too close to his face—as if in doing so, his face would be closer to me. Or my boobs. Or my body.
What a weirdo.
A hot, sexy weirdo.
“Every time I walk around, I can feel it.”
“Can you now.” His stare is intense.
I nod. “Mm-hmm.”
“Should I be apologizin’?”
Apologizing? “No.”
I wouldn’t call it a smirk, but the boy looks mighty pleased with himself.
“You know what you should do,” he says after a few seconds. “You should take your shirt off too, so we’re equal.”
A burst of laughter leaves my throat—a nervous, giggly sounding burst of laughter.
Oye.
“Take my shirt off?” Another bubble of laughter leaves my throat. “But you wouldn’t be able to see my boobs anyway. I’m holding the phone at the wrong angle. What would be the point?”
“Exactly.”
Is his logic making any sense? Er. Not really.
But he seems to think so.
“I’m not taking my shirt off so you can see my boobs. You can wait.” I grin at him. “Do you always have sex on the brain?”
He shakes his head. “No. I haven’t thought about bangin’ you at all until tonight, I swear.”
My brows rise.
“That’s not what I meant.” He backpedals. “I do think about havin’ sex with you, just not all the time. I can keep my dick in my pants, I swear.” He’s babbling.
“I was teasing.”
“I know,” he lies. “But just so we’re clear—I do think about bangin’ you. And I might have also masturbated when I got home ’cause I can still smell you. I think you’re sexy as fuck.” Drake pauses. “I hope it’s okay for me to say that. I don’t want to offend you.”
“Remember when you kissed me and then apologized?” I remind him. “Don’t do that.”
“I only apologized because I wasn’t supposed to be kissin’ my brother’s date.”
True.
“You said something about masturbating tonight. Is that actually what you call it?” He wants to know, eyes curious.
“Honestly? No. Sometimes I call it jerking off—both are weird and both are masculine. Pleasuring myself?” I make a gagging noise. “Worse.”
Yuck.
“You are really something, do you know that?”
That sombers me up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re…incredible.”
“You think I’m incredible because I say things like ‘jerking off’ and ‘masturbating’?” That’s hardly remarkable—this is how my girlfriends and I talk.
“No, I think you’re incredible because you’re honest and aren’t embarrassed to talk about it. Don’t you think that’s half the battle?”
I do. “This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a guy after only the first date.”
“Then we should probably get goin’ on the second one, which is the real reason I called.”
Oh yeah, that’s right.
Completely forgot.
“We’ve veered so off topic it’s not even funny.”
“That’s right. We went from you getting hot and bothered to your dick getting soft.”
“Aw,” I coo. “Are you trying to tell me I have big dick energy?”
He blinks. “Yes?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“It’s not something I’ve thought too much about,” he says honestly, making me laugh.
“That’s probably a good thing.”
We’re quiet for a few moments; I rack my brain for something new to talk about, but I also cannot stop staring at his upper body. His smooth skin, wondering how he’s so tan.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How are you so tan? Do you run around with no shirt on?” I’m confused.
“I run during the week. Sometimes I don’t have a shirt on—I get sweaty. And we play a lot of pickup games in the park. Guess I don’t wear a shirt then, either.”