Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I take another few sips, draining the contents before tossing the bottle in the recycling bin.
“Hey, you're Blakely, right?” a masculine voice asks, drawing my attention to the right and away from the dance floor.
The blonde guy from earlier is now at my side, looking down at me with hopeful eyes. “That's right?”
“Sorry, my friend Jonas told me about you,” he says, pointing behind him to where I recognize a rookie talking to a few others across the room. “He says you're one hell of a skate coach.”
I nod, and say thank you, not really sure what else to say. I may be at a work morale event, but the last person I want to be right now is Coach Wren. I've been having way too much fun tonight as Blakely.
“I'm a horrible skater,” he says.
“I'm sorry, I don't give private lessons unless you're on my team.”
“Oh no, that wasn't me asking for lessons,” he assures me. “Just stating a fact. But to be frank, I saw you and thought you were the most beautiful woman in this house, and I couldn't resist the urge to come over and ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.”
“That's so sweet of you,” I say. “But I'm...” Holy shit, I’m about to say I’m here with someone. But I’m not. Not in any official capacity. And yet I have no desire to get to know this very attractive guy who is giving me attention.
“Are you here with someone?”
“She is,” Lawson says, coming up behind me and looking over me at the guy.
“My bad,” he says respectfully, and nods at me. “It was nice to meet you, Blakely.” And then he walks off.
I whirl around, giving Lawson a questioning look.
Reality seems to crash over him, and he cringes. “Shit. I just reacted. Fuck me, Blakely. I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. I shouldn't have laid claim to you. You want me to go back and tell the guy—”
“Hell no,” I cut him off, and his hazel eyes flare.
“You're not pissed?”
I’m really not, and I have no idea what that means, but I’m not exactly in the mood to unpack it.
“I don't know,” I say a little playfully. “Maybe I am.”
Lawson seems to immediately catch on to my tone and mood, as he often does, and steps a little closer to me. “How can I make it up to you, damsel?”
Warmth trickles into my blood, swirling down to my core. My memory flies back to our first encounter when he promised orgasms and ice cream as a make-up method. I’m tempted to ask for that, but instead I say, “Give me another dance?”
His smile widens. “I'll dance with you all night if it means you're not mad at me.”
With the way this man behaves, he’ll be impossible to stay angry with, but I’m not about to tell him that. Instead, I let him take me back to the dance floor, the makeshift space in Kiplin's oversized living room where loads of people are dancing to the music that filters through the speakers both inside and outside of the house.
Lawson and I come together as easily and effortlessly as if we've been doing it for years instead of weeks. Just like during our private lessons, we’re attuned to each other's bodies and movements, which only makes moving on the dance floor that much more electric.
Plus, not being here in a work capacity makes my inhibitions much looser, and my mind is one-tracked when it comes to this man. He’s delivered the most incredible kisses I've ever had in my entire life. And yes I don't have that much to compare it to, but I am quite certain there’s nothing as addicting as Lawson Wolfe’s mouth.
“I'm flattered,” Lawson says as he looks down at me as we move to the music.
My eyes widen and panic creeps in. Did I say that out loud?
“That you'd rather dance with me than chat up a potential new prospect. Who knows, he could have been boyfriend material,” he continues.
Relief barrels through me, and I melt into his embrace just a little more as he sways us back and forth to the melody. God, just him moving innocently against my body like this has me wound tighter than a drum. I've never had this kind of reaction before, and I can't say that I hate it. Even when the anticipation and need feels like it might snap at any moment.
“I’m so done with boyfriends,” I say. “I mean, I only have one to compare the rest to, but in my experience, boyfriends are lacking.”
“Your ex definitely was,” he says. “But who knows, that guy might have been Mr. Right.”
“I'm not looking for Mr. Right,” I explain. “Brian talked about that all the time, and the way he did…it sounded more like a prison sentence than a dream come true. It was unnerving, toward the end.”