Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
This was happening.
“Two beds.” I dumped my backpack on the end of the bed closest to the window. “I guess you understood me after all.” I tried to hide my nerves with feigned confidence and flirty grins.
Truth?
I was disappointed there were two beds. Even if I didn’t want to have sex, I wanted to sleep next to him.
Isaac set his bag and guitar on the other bed. “I play at nine, so we have time to get lunch and find you something to wear.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I glanced down at my knee-length denim shorts and Keds.
“We’re in Nashville. I’m playing at a bar, not a nursing home.”
My jaw dropped. “W-what the heck? That’s not nice.”
Isaac lifted a single eyebrow, stepped into the bathroom, and pushed the door, but it didn’t completely shut. He was peeing, which meant he just whipped it out. I could have stepped a little closer and peeked through the crack to see his penis.
“I only have a hundred dollars with me, so I can’t buy anything too expensive,” I said after he flushed the toilet.
“We’ll work something out,” he said, opening the door before fully zipping his jeans. I couldn’t see anything, but I still averted my gaze.
“Uh, working things out feels like you’re suggesting I give you something if I can’t afford the clothes, and that makes me feel like a prostitute, so maybe not phrase it like that.” I wrung my hands out in front of me.
I was so excited to be in Nashville with Isaac, but the reality of leaving my family—lying to them—and being away from home for three days with a hundred dollars in my purse and a man who scared me to death (in a good way) started to sink in.
He shut off the faucet and dried his hands. “I think you’re missing my humor.” Sitting on the end of his bed, he reached for my wrist and pulled me between his spread knees. “I’m going to rest my hands beside me.” He released me and did just that. “And you’re going to touch me wherever you want, however you want. It doesn’t have to be sexual.”
“Why?” I squinted.
“Because you’re eighteen. And your nerves are palpable. We’re in a big city. Your parents aren’t here. And while I love playing with you and bantering with you, I don’t take the responsibility I feel for your well-being lightly. So I need you to trust me implicitly. And I don’t think you can do that if I make you tremble this much.”
I shook my head, clenching my fists. “I’m not trembling.”
He frowned, taking my hand and uncurling my fingers. My hand shook when he released it, so he guided it to his shoulder before returning his hand to the bed.
“Pretend I’m Matty if you have to.”
“I don’t want to think about him,” I murmured, resting my other hand on the opposite shoulder. I ghosted both hands down his arms, letting my fingers trace the lines of his tattoos.
He shivered, and my gaze shot to his.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “You affect me. Or maybe your touch infects me.”
My gaze felt sluggish, like when he got me drunk. I skimmed back up his arms to his neck, then his face, fingers spread wide.
When the pads of my thumbs grazed his lips, he closed his eyes, and he drew in an unsteady breath.
“Are you shaking?” I whispered, feeling a tiny jolt of power.
Did I really have that effect on him?
“Why?” I asked, slipping my fingers into his hair.
“You know why,” he said, opening his eyes.
That was it. That was the problem, the reason my nerves got the best of me. I didn’t know why someone like Isaac would genuinely be interested in an eighteen-year-old who, despite her silver cords, didn’t get into the college she wanted.
“Will you remove your shirt?” I asked.
“No. But you can remove it.” He cocked his head to the side when I hesitated. “Wrap me around that little finger of yours.”
I attempted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t peel my gaze away from him long enough to make it believable. With no sort of grace, I pulled his shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor.
Isaac let his hands fall back to his sides. There was no comparison, but that didn’t stop me from seeing the six-year physical difference between him and Matt. Isaac was bigger and broader, and it did little to keep me from trembling.
I swallowed hard, and that’s when I noticed Isaac doing the same thing as his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Again, he closed his eyes when I pressed my hands to his bare chest. “For the next three days, I need to see you at all times.” He opened his eyes. “If you need to pee, I want to know. If you need a snack, I want to know. If I can’t see you, then you’re not where I need you to be. Understood?”