Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Look, I’m sorry. My Uber is here,” she snaps, biting her bottom lip as she waves at the idiot in the Toyota Camry smiling away. Irrational jealousy spikes through me, and all I can hear is my teeth grinding.
Walk away, Brett. This one is bad news. Instead, I grab the door before she can shut it and lean down, glaring at the Uber driver who looks at me through the rearview mirror.
“Drop the class, Alexandrea.” I straighten.
She reaches over and violently slams the door on me. I back up and watch her mouth something to the driver as my fist opens and closes.
I’ve always been competitive, but never a jealous man. So this feeling that I’d like to beat the shit out of the driver’s smiling face solely because he’s pulling away with her is unacceptable.
Unacceptable.
“Fuck this.” I walk to my bike and start it up, not caring that I’m playing Russian roulette with oncoming traffic. My mind purposely ignores her scent, which clings to my jacket, and the pineapple taste of her mouth as I zigzag back into my lane and head toward my house.
I’ll change into a suit and get completely smashed so that everything that happened today will be gone tomorrow.
Tonight, I’ll be charming. I’ll laugh and shake hands with all the arrogant pricks pretending to wish me well. Then I’ll find a willing woman and let her erase all visions of red lips, dark hair, and a pair of emerald eyes.
ALEXANDREA
I sit back as Lucas, my Uber driver, seems happy carrying on a conversation with himself. Me? I’m silently freaking the fuck out.
“Oh God,” I groan, my elbow resting on the window.
Numb. I’m numb because not only did I almost die, but I just had a kiss that… I don’t even know how to describe it.
Savage.
Consuming.
Screw that, addictive is the only way I can even try to sort through these feelings making my stomach twist and flip. My lips almost throb as if he’s branded me.
What am I going to do? He wants me to drop the class. Strike that, he demanded I leave, permanently.
Closing my eyes, I barely register that Lucas is still talking. My hand drops to my abdomen as I do my best not to scream, Shut up. I need quiet in here to think! It’s not this guy’s fault that my life is spiraling out of control.
“This is so bad,” I whisper as I sit up to gaze out the window, barely admiring the ocean and its majestic waves flowing in and out. All I see is him.
Full lips as they slammed down on mine. His hands jerking my hair back… Jesus, it was like my whole body became his. Had that man not come out of the fish market…
“So anyway, if you ever want to laugh, I can get you a ticket. Just let me know. Here.” Lucas’s annoying hand appears in front of my face with a purple card.
Blinking, I pull back to let my eyes focus, realizing I’m home, or at least at Skylar’s home.
“Oh, thanks.” I try to smile, but my lips seem to still be tingling. Grabbing the business card he dangles in front of me, I force myself to read it.
Lucas Davis
Actor!
Comedian!!
Chauffeur extraordinaire!!!
818-442-8596
“Actually, I’m at the Comedy Store this Thursday night. Not headlining, but I’m still there. You should check it out. Are you twenty-one?” I don’t even get a chance to respond when he continues, “I mean, if you’re not, it’s okay, but it’s always more fun if you can drink, and there is a two-drink minimum.”
“I’m not, but I have a fake ID.” Why would I tell him that? What if he’s a narc? I finish giving him a tip on my phone and swing the car door open, dragging my stuffed backpack out. I must go through it tonight, or I’ll throw out my back—I already feel lopsided. But first, I need a cold shower because it feels as though a fever’s burning through me. God, I feel raw, vulnerable, and yeah, the whole scooter fiasco was awful. But I can recover from that. Kissing Dean Powers, though? I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.
“That’s cool.” Lucas’s voice interrupts my sphere again, and I almost start laughing.
A narc? Really, Alex? This guy literally looks like a wannabe Tom Holland.
“I’ll try to stop by,” I say, hoping that makes him drive away. As I walk up the small sidewalk, it’s the first time I’m grateful for the neighbor’s dog barking nonstop at me. Lucas is still talking, but the dog drowns it out. I turn to wave, then dart inside, leaning my back against the door as my backpack hits the hardwood floor.
“Nightmare.” I bring my fingers to my lips as my mind replays the way he tasted like chocolate, maybe even a cappuccino? And his smell… like fresh, not cologne, but clean with a slight spice. I push off the door and walk down the small hallway toward the bathroom. Music spills out from under Skylar’s door. God, she’s blasting Miley Cyrus’s “Flowers” again. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a toe tapper, but she’s been playing that song over and over for the past week.