Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Until I catch sight of my sweaty, shirtless stepdad and run smack into a pillar.
“Jesus.” He drops the barbell he’s pressing overhead and comes toward me, visibly concerned. I try, I really do try, not to notice the way his thighs ripple in the navy blue sweatpants, but it’s impossible. Once I notice the thighs, I can’t help but become highly aware of the thick pendulum of manhood swinging between his legs. Holy mother of God. “Are you okay, London?” he asks, tipping my chin up. “Looked like you bumped your forehead.”
“It’s fine.” I’m staring desperately up at the ceiling, forbidding myself from checking him out again. Honestly, I don’t even need to. His chiseled, glistening upper body is branded on my brain forever. But—wait. Wait. Why am I avoiding looking at him? Is this how a seductress would behave? I’m never going to get what I need at this rate. “I’m really fine,” I murmur, meeting his eyes for the first time. Gathering my courage, I let my attention travel down the front of his chest to his navel. “Don’t let me interrupt your work out.”
He tucks his tongue into the corner of his mouth. “Baby, you’re dressed to interrupt.”
“Oh this?” I twirl a strand of my hair around my finger. “I couldn’t find any other exercise clothes.”
“Is that what you came down here for?” His knuckle grazes my belly, slowly traveling up and down, stopping at the waistband of my shorts. “Exercise?”
“I love working out.”
Lie. Huge one. I hate it. Satan invented it.
But I need to buy myself time so I can set up my phone to record the seduction.
“Well, don’t let me stop you.”
“Thanks.” I turn around, celebrating when I feel his attention glue itself to my nearly bare butt. “I’ll just hop on the stair climber.”
“Be my guest,” he rasps, adjusting himself.
I make a meal out of getting on the machine and beginning to climb, exaggerating every movement and watching his jaw flex in the wall of mirrors. “So, Brody…” Discreetly, I slip my phone out of my sports bra, setting it in the cup holder of the stair climber, facing it in the direction of the squat rack. “Do you work today?”
“Yes,” he growls, tearing his gaze off my bottom, walking to a shelf near the door and chugging a full bottle of water without coming up for air. The thing between his legs is no longer a pendulum. Ah, no. It’s pushing against the front of his sweatpants like an extended fist. “I’ll be back for dinner. You’re going to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“There go my plans,” I quip, sending him a teasing look over my shoulder.
The water bottle pauses on its way back to the shelf. “You’re in a playful mood.”
“I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.” I arch my back and really give him a show, feeling the shorts ride even higher. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but he’s even less comfortable. His Adam’s apple is tucked up under his chin, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “Maybe we can try again?” I ask cheerfully.
“Try again,” he repeats gruffly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Great.” Continuing to climb, I peel off the tank top and toss it away, leaving me in nothing but the tiny shorts and sports bra. “Any ideas how to…achieve it?”
In the mirror, I watch his jaw firm. “You can start by telling me about your fascination with roller coasters.”
I almost fall off the stair climber. “What? My what?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You heard me.”
“Of course I did, but…how did you know that?” I start to climb faster. “I know Kelli didn’t tell you. I’ve barely spoken to her about it.”
“When your things were brought here, I noticed several notebooks full of sketches.” Finally setting down the water bottle, he moves to the squat rack and settles the bar on the range of muscles that make up his shoulders. “You’ve been interested in designing them since you were pretty young. Some of those sketches were even in crayon.”
“The colors make me feel more imaginative,” I blurt, before I can stop myself. “Hey, you shouldn’t have been going through my things. A lot like you shouldn’t have been reading through my medical records.” I watch him drop into a squat, his thick ass pushing out, thighs flexing, and my mouth turns utterly dry. “Why were you interested, anyway? In the medical stuff, I mean.”
“I wanted to make sure you were being taken care of in juvenile hall.”
“It took you several reads to determine that?”
Our eyes lock in the mirror, his unreadable.
He doesn’t respond.
“You know, most stepfathers aren’t this interested in their stepchildren.”
He replaces the bar on the squat rack with a metal rattle. “I’m not most stepfathers.” He swipes a hand down his sweaty face. “So. Roller coasters.”