Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
The sight is almost enough to make me come on the spot.
What I love most is that she’s not tiny and waif-like.
Holland is strong and sexy.
Her confidence on stage turns me on so much.
“Fuck,” I groan, my fingers tightening in her hair.
She hums in response. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Her hand caresses what she can’t fit in her mouth, twisting on the upstroke in a way that has my toes curling against the shower floor.
She must sense how close I am, because she doubles her efforts, bobbing her head faster as her free hand cups my balls. The coil of tension in my lower abdomen tightens as my release continues to build. When I try to warn her to pull away, she grips my hips firmly to keep me in place.
“Holland, I’m gonna—” I rasp, my voice strained.
She looks up at me through spiky lashes, her eyes dark with intensity. The sight of her, combined with the relentless suction of her mouth, pushes me over the edge. I come with a strangled cry, my body shuddering as waves of pleasure crash over me. The thought of her taking my release deep inside only makes my orgasm more powerful.
Holland swallows down every drop I give her, continuing to work me gently with her tongue until I’m spent. Only then does she press a kiss against my softening cock before rising to her feet.
I pull her against me, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss. The fact that I can taste myself on her tongue only fuels the fire burning inside me.
I pull away long enough to murmur, “That was—”
“Pretty fucking fantastic?”
I snort out a laugh as the edges of my lips curl. “Sure, we can go with that.”
Humor dances in her sparkling eyes.
I like it.
More than that…
I like her.
That thought is all it takes to break down the last of my barriers.
23
Holland
After the impromptu shower in the locker room, hunger wins out, and we go in search of food. Bridger takes me to a place called Harvey’s Eats and Treats. It’s a diner that looks like it was ripped straight out of a 1950s postcard. The red vinyl booths gleam under the soft glow of hanging lights, and the walls are plastered with Coca-Cola memorabilia and black-and-white photos of old Hollywood stars. A retro jukebox hums in the corner, its colorful lights twinkling to some old-school rock song I vaguely recognize.
Willow has mentioned this place before, but I’ve never been here. As I take it in, I have to admit that it lives up to the hype.
“Pretty cool place, huh?” Bridger says, holding the door open for me.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree, stepping inside. The smell of sizzling burgers and fried onions wraps around me like a hug and makes me realize just how famished I am. “Although, I’ll reserve judgment until after I eat.”
A waitress wearing a pink uniform approaches with menus tucked under her arm. “Looking for a table or booth?”
“Booth,” we say at the same time before glancing at each other with small smiles.
“Aren’t you two adorable,” she says. “Follow me.”
I don’t look at Bridger as we trail after her. I’m pretty sure my face is a dead giveaway.
Adorable?
That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe us.
More like complicated.
Or maybe combustible.
The waitress slides two menus onto the table, her pencil poised over a notepad. “Would you like drinks to start out with?”
“Root beer float,” Bridger and I echo simultaneously.
When I glance up from my menu, he smirks. “Wow, just add it to the growing list of what we have in common,” he says, leaning back and stretching an arm along the top of the booth.
“Like I said—adorable,” the waitress chirps.
I clear my throat. “I’ll also have a bacon cheeseburger with the works, and onion rings.”
Bridger’s gaze stays pinned to mine. “Same.”
The older woman jots down our order before taking off.
“Seems like we’re a match made in fake dating heaven,” I force myself to say, needing the reminder.
Especially after what happened in the locker room.
He flashes a slow grin that arrows to the heart of me before exploding on impact.
I don’t like it.
I don’t like what he does to me.
And I certainly don’t like the sensations running rampant beneath my skin, trying to claw their way to the surface.
It’s dangerous.
We need to steer this conversation to safer terrain.
“So,” I say, folding my arms on the table. “What’s the story with this place? Sentimental favorite, or do you bring all your fake girlfriends here?”
His smirk deepens. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Not really.”
Maybe.
His eyes narrow. “Liar.”
The banter flows easily between us, like it’s second nature, and I hate how much I enjoy it. The guy definitely keeps me on my toes.
Before I can come up with a biting response, a small voice interrupts.
“Excuse me?”
We both turn to see a little boy standing at the edge of our booth. He can’t be older than nine, and his face is lit up like Christmas morning. The waitress drops off two glasses of water before beelining to another table.