Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“You never speak to him, which comes across like you’re some ungrateful asshole.” Jersey slipped on her new sunglasses as the sun sank lower into the western sky.
Ian had dinner plans with his manager, Ames.
“I’m paranoid that if I talk too much something about my voice might become recognizable to him and blow our whole plan.”
“At this point, I’d welcome something recognizable about this whole messed up situation. The black Charger is bullshit—”
“It’s not bullshit!” Chris heaved his empty bottle into the pool.
“He didn’t even flinch when I asked him about his cars. I asked him again earlier … in his gym.”
Chris slid down his sunglasses, peering at Jersey. “His what?”
“Gym. He has a full basketball court just beyond the workout room. He can dunk.” She shook her head, finding it impossible to not grin. “Fucking rock star who can dunk a basketball and hit three pointers like he’s been doing it since he came out of the womb. Which …” She frowned. “He told me something about his past. Something personal that makes no sense.”
“Which is?”
Jersey leaned her head back and sighed, closing her eyes. “I feel like it’s a secret I’m not supposed to share.”
“You’re not serious.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Fine. He said his parents died when he was seven.”
“No.” Chris shook his head. “That’s not true. He would have told me. There’s no way he befriended me and kept that a secret from me out of all people. Those weren’t his adopted parents. No way. He’s playing you. One orphan to another. And I’m not wrong about the car.”
“Well, either you’re not remembering the car correctly or he knows … he knows I lived with the Russells. He knows he’s responsible for what happened to me after they died. And sometimes…” she stood, adjusting the ties to her pink bikini and fishing the empty beer bottle out of the pool with the long-poled skimmer “…I think that’s it. I think he knows everything. He knows we know. He’s testing me or you. Maybe both of us. What’s he thinking? If he knows you, why not say something?”
“What the fuck is all over your legs?” Chris nodded toward Jersey’s crotch.
She smoothed her fingers over the red bumps near the apex of her legs. “Max sent me to get waxed yesterday. Apparently, this can happen after the first time. They should disappear in the next few days.”
“Waxed, huh? So all of your pubes have been ripped out?”
Jersey frowned, nodding while plopping back down onto the lounge chair.
“Ouch.” He shared a sympathetic seething noise.
“I’ve experienced worse things. And I felt agreeable and quite happy after the STD tests all came back negative.”
“True.” Chris opened his book. “That’s good news.”
“I can see the title.” Jersey grinned, nodding to his book while adjusting her glasses.
Chris’s attempted smile failed, so he held out his hand. Jersey took it, letting him pull her over to lie with him. She nestled her body on its side between his legs, resting her cheek on his chest covered in a long-sleeved swimming shirt that protected his damaged skin.
“It’s not enough … the glasses. I’m happy for you that you can see things now, but it’s not enough to make up for what he did.”
Jersey sighed, closing her eyes behind the glasses. “I know.”
After a few silent minutes, Chris started reading to Jersey. He read the murder mystery to her for over an hour. Then he made dinner for her in Ian’s fancy kitchen.
“I’m going to bed.” He kissed the top of her head as she sipped the rest of her wine, slightly past the tipsy point.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“Anytime.”
“Chris?” she murmured. “Are you … lonely?”
He stopped just before turning the corner by the stairs. “Lonely?”
“For a woman. Pleasure. The fantasies you said you have.”
“Yeah, Jers … I’m lonely. I’d give my right testicle for a trip to a strip club or a computer with access to a good porn site.”
“Coop has a computer.”
“Sure, Jers … I’ll try to remember to ask him for the password tomorrow since we’re such close buds.”
“Chris—”
“Night, Jers.”
A few minutes later, Ian came in the back door as Jersey emptied the last few drops of her wine down her throat.
“Drinking alone?” He lifted a sexy eyebrow.
“Mmhm.” She licked the residual wine from her lips while letting her intoxicated gaze slide along the length of Ian’s body—dark jeans, a white button-down, and a sharp blue blazer the color of his car. She liked looking at him. That emotion felt new and a little odd. Very little in her life had involved enjoyment and pleasure, so admiring a man who freely returned the sentiment felt like an out of body experience. A dream.
“Chris go to bed?” Ian shrugged off his blazer.
Jersey nodded, propping her bare legs and feet up on the kitchen table next to the empty wine bottle and glass. Her white, sheer swimsuit cover-up slid open.