Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
"Ready to go?" he asks.
"Yeah," I tell him and follow him out to his truck.
The drive to my house is quick, and the whole time Porter keeps glancing at me. I can feel him watching me, and it's making butterflies swarm in my stomach. When we pull up to Renae’s place and park, Porter shuts the truck off.
"Bailey, about tonight…" he begins, and I tense. Is he going to ask what the hell I was thinking, letting him touch me like that? Is he going to ask why I didn't tell him sooner that I'm a virgin?
I brace myself, and Porter continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "I want you to know that it wasn't planned. What happened between us. It was spontaneous, but I don’t regret a damn second of it. And that’s not the end of what’s going to happen between us. I hope you’re ready.”
His words are totally unexpected. I'm reeling, and Porter watches as my expression shifts. "Okay?" he asks. "Do you understand?"
"Yes."
His brow furrows. "Was that a yes, you understood, or a yes, you're ready?"
My face turns bright red, and I blurt out, "I'm ready. And…and I liked it. I don't regret what happened. You’re sure you don’t either?”
Porter's lips curl. "Baby, I'm not regretting a damn thing."
It's not all that late when Porter drops me off, but I still had high hopes that Renae would be asleep already. Or at least in her room and not here to see me coming home all disheveled and well-pleased.
But of course, she's on the couch, nursing a glass of wine and staring at the TV. When she hears me come in, she calls out, "Bailey! Where were you? You said you'd be at the gym 45 minutes max."
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. Renae can read me like a book, and she'll know if I'm trying to hide something.
"Hey, Ren," I say, putting on a cheerful voice.
"Bailey?" Renae sits up, frowning. Her eyes are on me, brows furrowed. "Bailey, what did you do?"
"What are you talking about? Nothing."
Renae crosses her arms over her chest and glares.
"I'm serious," I insist. "Nothing happened!"
"You're lying to me. You're hiding something. Is it..is it Ian?" Her voice goes small and quiet, and guilt hits me like a freight train.
"It's not Ian," I tell her. "You're right, I am hiding something, but it's not your business."
Renae's mouth drops. "Not my business? You're my friend and roommate."
I cringe. "Okay, fine. Something happened.”
"Oh, my God." Renae stands up, wine forgotten. "What happened, Bailey?"
"Calm down!" I cry out. "Jesus, Ren. Sit down, please."
Renae narrows her eyes, but she listens. She sits down, and I flop on the couch beside her.
"I'm not hiding anything bad. Well, sort of. But not really."
"Bailey, speak clearly right now or so help me God..." Renae trails off.
I sigh. "You remember Porter Brooks?"
She gives me a deadpan look. "You mean the one I caught you making out with in the driveway just this afternoon? Yeah, duh. Of course, I remember."
My face turns bright red. "Anyway, things…happened. Today."
Renae leans back, observing me from head to toe, and laughs. I blink, confused at the sudden change in demeanor, struggling to keep up with what exactly is going on.
"Girl, if you had a little fun, that's all you have to say. I'm not going to be on your case. We're young. It happens!" She reaches forward and takes my hands in hers. "All I ask is that you don't let things get serious. I googled this guy, and while he sounds great, he's almost twice your age. Keep things casual so you don't get hurt."
Her words make sense, but my stomach turns anyway. Casual. I'm pretty sure Porter is not going to be okay with casual.
"Of course, Ren." I smile, hoping it looks convincing.
"Good." She nods. Then, her gaze turns wicked. "Now, tell me what happened!"
The next day, I wake up with butterflies in my stomach. They're back, and they're multiplying fast. It's the day of my next boxing lesson, and last night, Porter and I texted into the wee hours of the morning. I blush as I remember some of the dirty things he said to me, how hot his mouth was, and how talented his fingers were.
Ian never once spoke to me like Porter does. He never once made my heart pound or my skin turn hot. He certainly never made me feel like I'm the most beautiful person in the world, which is how Porter makes me feel.
I roll out of bed and dress quickly, pulling on my workout clothes and agonizing over how they look on me. I want to look perfect for Porter, for it to be impossible for him to take his eyes off me, even if I know deep down that I should really be focusing on learning how to defend myself.