Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Do you mind if I put my feet on the coffee table?”
Scarlett’s gaze meets mine and I note the color of her eyes: blue. Black lashes flutter, eyes sliding down my denim-clad legs, hesitating on the bulge in my pants, landing at my feet.
I wiggle my toes and arch a brow when her eyes fly back to my face, cheeks blushing as I flirt with her.
Flirting with the girl my friends called Cock Blocker. Sitting in her house, eating her food, watching her TV. Walking her home and enjoying every goddamn second of her company.
Man the guys have a field day with this.
“Sure, you can put your feet up. Make yourself comfortable.”
I gawk at her then, noticing that her eyes aren’t just blue—they’re deeper, darker, not navy, but…muddy, and Jesus, I’m doing the shittiest job describing them. I should stop.
She clears her throat when I stretch my long torso, spreading the long wingspan of my arms farther across the back of the couch, lips set, complacent. Head thumping back against the wall and hitting it by accident.
Ouch.
I let my eyelids fall closed.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Rowdy Wade,” Scarlett warns.
I grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, because you’re going to feed me pizza soon. It’s so quiet in here though, it might be hard not to.”
Really nice and really fucking quiet. Plus, Scarlett has food.
“Now you know why I love staying home instead of going out. I can do what I want—sing as loud as I want, not do dishes, walk around naked.”
I raise my eyes, interested. “Do you now?”
“Do whatever I want? Heck yeah.”
“No, no, tell me more about this nudity. Do you walk around doing housecleaning and shit buck naked? Paint me a visual, and don’t spare any details.”
A pretty blush creeps up her neck. “I mean, yeah, sometimes. Doesn’t everybody?”
Uh, no. Not everyone walks around naked.
But seeing her like this, in her natural environment, removed from the porch of the house on Jock Row—knowing she probably isn’t wearing a bra even though I can’t see her nipples—my imagination takes hold faster than I can field a ground ball. Drags me by the balls and leads me on a path I probably shouldn’t be going down, skipping my dick merrily all the way.
Behind us in the kitchen, a timer dings.
I watch Scarlett rise off the sofa and pad into the kitchen. Hear a few drawers open and close. Oven creak open, one pizza sliding out after the other. I look over my shoulder, watching her cut them into slices in precise movements and slide the pieces onto two plates.
“You need help in there?”
“Nope, I got it. You just sit there and relax.”
Is this girl for real? I’ve been here less than an hour and already she’s spoiling me rotten.
Scarlett returns moments later carrying two plates topped with pizza. Hands one to me, a goddess bearing gifts.
“Can we talk about this naked thing again?”
“I don’t understand why you’re so fascinated by it.”
I shoot hear a look that says, Really?
“Sorry, but I just can’t let the subject go. And for the record, I have a roommate, so—no, I don’t walk around naked.”
Scarlett’s still standing in front of me, holding her plate. Leans toward me, dipping to hand me the pizza until the neckline of her shirt drops, to mutter, “But you walk around naked in the locker room, right?”
“Oh yeah—for sure.”
“Mmm.” Scarlett draws out the sound, like she’s just popped something savory into her mouth and it tastes like heaven. “All those athletic, naked, toned bodies showering in one spot.”
Whoa. Hold up.
My head lifts. “You care about athletic, toned bodies?”
In case she hasn’t fucking noticed, there’s a perfectly serviceable male specimen sitting right on her goddamn living room sofa that she’s barely spared a second glance at the entire time we’ve been here.
If Scarlett keeps acting like I’m resistible, quite frankly, I’m going to become insulted.
“I mean, just because I’m not on Jock Row with the sole purpose of finding my next lay like some girls doesn’t mean my brain isn’t triggered by the sight of your friends’ physical…attributes. Believe me, it’s been triggered.” She laughs. “I’m human for god’s sake.” She grabs a slice of pizza. Takes a bite of its end and slowly chews, thoughtfully. “And anyway, you brought it up.”
Something I’ll later identify as jealousy wells up and makes me blurt out, “I said nothing about wet dudes in the locker room.”
“Wet dudes.” Her brows shoot up. Wiggle.
I narrow my eyes, irritated. “Would you knock that shit off?”
Jesus. Scarlett is kind of a pervert.
She bends her torso forward, toward me, and I finally get the boob shot I’ve been looking for: cleavage with the shadow of her nipples.
While I’m gawking down her shirt, Scarlett lowers her voice conspiratorially to a near whisper; obviously, I’m hanging on her every word.