Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 85267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Yes.” She pauses, thumb brushing over my chin. “Yes, I like it. I like this little spot, right here.”
The cleft in my chin? I’ve always hated it. “You do?”
“Yeah. It’s…” She pauses so long I don’t think she’ll say it. “Sexy.”
I’ve been called sexy before, but Charlie isn’t calling me sexy—she’s calling the cleft in my chin sexy, breaking me down piece by piece, identifying the parts of me that turn her on.
The meaningless nothings I’ve heard over the years, the same compliments and propositions from girls bestowed on my teammates…
God you’re hot.
Damn you’re sexy, Triple J.
I’ll blow you right now in the bathroom if you’ll let me…
Generic and ambivalent. I’m just a number on the back of a jersey to those women.
But I’m not just a number to Charlie.
I see it now in the way she’s watching her hands move over my skin, fascinated. Like I’m good-looking when I know I’m not, not really. There are thousands of guys better looking than I am, and any of them would be happy to give Charlie what she’s after—a relationship.
I don’t have a clue how to be in one.
I’ve only touched stripper tits; what do I know about having a girlfriend?
But maybe…just maybe…
I’m distracted by Charlie moving closer, breasts pressed against my chest—a new sensation for me. I squirm at the tightening in the crotch of my jeans when her tits squish my pecs.
“I love this.” Her palms cup my jawline.
I love this. Love this.
Love.
Another word I’ve never heard.
I lean into her warmth. She leans into me, tilting her chin up, mouth pouty.
“Do you?” I whisper.
“You know I do.”
I do. I know she likes everything about me or she wouldn’t be standing with me on her porch; Charlie has principles, and misleading someone isn’t her style.
“What…” I clear my throat. “What else do you love?”
Her lips curl up. “Cheeseburgers.”
Sassy brat.
I frown, and Charlie laughs. “Oh, don’t make that face.”
A hmph sound emerges from my throat, my hands somehow finding their way around her midriff, spanning just above the waistband of her jeans and clasping behind her.
She makes a happy little sound, pressing closer still. “Know what else I love?” Her palms rest on my shoulders, slowly, leisurely roaming down my biceps. “How tall you are. How strong.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“And I love your hair.”
My hair? It needs to be cut. Stash could probably use a trim before I start to resemble my friend Sasquatch, who looks like fucking Bigfoot, hairy and unkempt. It’s a damn wonder he has a girlfriend.
“I need a trim,” I tell her dumbly as her fingers continue their exploration of my arms, her head giving a tiny shake.
“Mmm, no. It’s perfect.”
She’s perfect.
I hold my breath when her hands leave my body and wind up behind my neck, fingers toying with the hair at the nape.
“At least you can see with your helmet on, hmm?”
It’s the first reference to football Charlotte has ever made; not surprising since she doesn’t seem to give a shit that I’m an athlete. Hasn’t once pestered me about the draft, going pro, or how much I’m going to make if I get signed.
“I can see with my helmet on. It’s not that long.” Not yet. Sometimes I don’t get it cut until Coach makes me pull it back into a bun, which makes wearing headgear a bitch. Nothing hurts worse than getting clocked on the skull when there’s a fucking bun digging into your scalp.
Good times, good times.
“You know,” Charlie begins. “It wasn’t necessary to make a bet with me so you could kiss me.”
“I’m not kissin’ you.”
“You know what I mean, Jackson.”
Yeah, I know what she means. She would have let me kiss her if I’d have made a move on her—which I kind of did back at my house, in the kitchen, albeit passive-aggressively and by default, since my goal was to comfort her, not make out with her.
“But isn’t this more fun?”
“Maybe.” Her pink lips pucker. “I haven’t made my move yet. I’m playing it cool.”
Not cool enough. Her eyes are shining, a tell-tale sign that she’s turned on, body alert. God she feels good pressed against me. We’re not doing anything besides standing here, but damn if it isn’t amazing.
I wait her out, letting her move at her own pace, for several reasons.
Because I have no idea how to make a move of my own. Mother Nature hasn’t taken over yet, although she could step in any fucking day now to help me along.
Charlie is technically the one who should be doing all the work, since that’s what the bet was about. Sort of.
Kind of.
I haven’t felt this kind of tension since my freshman year, when the football coaching staff made cuts and, even though I had a scholarship to play, I worried my position on the team was in jeopardy.