Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Blake gives him a warning look.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say quickly. “Why? What did he say about me?”
“That you were a stuck-up bitch,” Heath says.
Blake pounds him hard in the shoulder. “You are such a wanker!”
“That’s okay,” Rio speaks up. “Amanda hated your guts the whole semester.”
“Oh, she told me that,” Blake says.
“You thought I was a bitch?” I ask him, surprised, but not exactly insulted.
“Peach,” he says, “I’ve told you I thought you were a bitch.”
“No, you said I was a dork.”
“And a nerd.”
“And a prude.”
“And a stick-in-the-mud.”
“And a lot of things.”
Rio and Heath are watching us. I shrug, trying to act causal. “Luckily we were still able to work together. We ended up getting an A on the project.”
“You know, she’s not a prude,” Rio says out of the blue, or maybe her mind is just ten steps back tonight. “She just doesn’t sleep around.”
“That’s good to know,” Blake says, leveling me with his gaze.
“Wish we could say that about old Blake Dawg here,” Heath says. “I’m pretty sure there’s a waitress here that wants to kill him.”
“What else is new?” Blake and I say in unison.
We both grin.
Eyes twinkling.
And I’m realizing how damn hard it is to sit across from him and not touch each other. Even when we’re working, I usually have my limbs draped over him or he has his hands in my hair, or he’s stroking his thumb over my shoulder. There’s always contact.
“I guess you two really got to know each other, eh?” Rio says carefully. I’m wondering if she’s picking up on anything.
“A bit,” Blake says lightly. “Wouldn’t mind knowing more though.”
I feel like I’ve got something lodged in my throat. I try to swallow.
Then the waitress comes by, and while she doesn’t appear to know Blake—thank god—the rest of the conversation eases off of us and onto other topics. All the while though, as the drinks flow and the tapas come out, I feel locked in Blake’s force field. From the depth in his eyes, to his easy smile, the way his hand is across the table, so close to mine—he’s all I can think about.
It’s fucking unbearable.
“I’ve got to go to use the toilet. Excuse me,” Blake says later, getting out of his chair. He turns around, and I see something in his eyes, a beckoning.
I chew on my lip, looking at Rio and Heath who are in deep conversation about travel. And by deep, I mean they’re discussing the significance of full-moon parties in Thailand and what drugs to do.
“I’m going to go get a drink from the bar,” I say after a minute, but they barely hear me.
I get up and head to the washrooms at the back.
There are only two private stalls and I have no idea which one Blake is in, and now I’m wondering if that look he gave me meant anything at all.
“Blake?” I whisper, looking between the doors.
Nothing.
I decide to try the women’s one.
It’s not locked.
But there is a woman on the toilet, pants around her ankles, doing her business.
“This is occupied!” she yells at me, and I quickly slam the door shut.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I cry out, feeling all sorts of embarrassed even though it wasn’t my fault at all. Why do people do that? Just lock the fucking door.
I turn to go for the men’s but there’s already a man going for it, turning the handle.
He opens it wide and Blake is in there, just standing there in the middle of the washroom.
Luckily he’s fully dressed.
“I’m sorry,” the man says curtly.
“I was just leaving,” Blake explains quickly, coming out of the bathroom and standing beside me. “Hi,” he says, peering at me.
“Hi,” I reply, smiling like a goof.
The man eyes us suspiciously before closing the door and locking it. The door thumps on its hinges, the man making sure it really is locked.
Then the women’s washroom opens and the occupant comes out, glaring at me as she goes.
“You know her?” Blake asks as he ushers me into the washroom.
“Making all sorts of friends tonight,” I tell him.
He locks us in, and before I can say another word, he’s grabbing my face, lips devouring mine, tongue pushing into my mouth, stroking every pent up desire.
I grab him in kind, my hands in his hair, at the back of his neck while his hands grab my waist, my ass, pinching, groping. We grapple together in a frenzy of heat and lust and something unbelievably real.
I’m pushed back against the tile wall, pinned there, and I’m his, completely his. My body operates on pure instinct, throwing myself into him with no inhibitions, no caution. It craves him as much as my mind and soul do. As he presses against me, breathing hard and kissing me, messy and wet, I put my hands around his shoulders and relish the lean, taut muscles of his back as I pull him in.