Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
She smirks up at him. “Give me your best shot.”
Foster and his teammates have a conference before daring Beth to make out with a girl of her choice while the two girls trade bras. Without the slightest hesitation Beth enlists Olivia, who, as I’m discovering tonight, possesses a wild streak as well as a pretty decent sense of humor. I don’t know why we never hung out before.
Not wasting any time, the two Kappas stand up and lock lips while each tucks their arms into their shirts to undo their bras and pull them out of their sleeves then put on the new one. It happens so fast the men are left speechless and gawking.
“What just happened?” Cory asks stupidly.
“That’s some kind of witchcraft right there,” Conor remarks beside me.
I make the mistake of looking at Rebecca again, and this time she actually looks back. What ensues is the most awkward eye-locking in the history of mankind. I break visual contact when I hear someone say, “Taylor.”
“Huh?” I turn at the sound of my name.
Olivia is fluttering her fingers together like a cartoon villain. “It’s your turn. I dare you to…”
Oh, right. That’s why we don’t hang out. Because anyone who knows me well and whom I consider a friend wouldn’t put me on the spot like this.
Sasha must read the panic on my face. “Oh come on. Hasn’t Taylor done enough? I think she’s earned her retirement.”
“…To give Conor a lap dance,” Olivia finishes gleefully.
Fuck my life.
Conor stiffens. His eyes meet mine, and although his expression reveals nothing, I can feel his concern. We haven’t known each other long, but he’s perceptive enough to know I’d rather accept the penalty of death than accept this embarrassing dare.
“Hell no,” he declares, jumping to his feet. “I don’t want a bunch of drunk perverts eyeing my girlfriend.”
To my shock, he peels out of his hoodie. Now he’s left in a tight white tank top that shows off his sculpted arms and washboard abs. Olivia audibly gasps.
He cocks his head suddenly, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Nice. Even got the music on my side,” he drawls. Then he pulls my chair back a bit and stands between me and the table.
“What are you doing?” I yelp.
“Blowing your mind.” He winks at me.
Dread fills my stomach when I recognize the song blasting from the bar’s sound system. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard. Oh fuck me.
“Don’t,” I beg Conor, fear trembling in my voice. “Please don’t.”
Rather than heed my pleas, he licks his lips, sways his hips, and launches into a raunchy performance.
Oh my fucking God.
My fake boyfriend is giving me a real lap dance.
“Work it, baby!” Beth catcalls, while Olivia and the other girls transform into the living personification of the heart-eyes emoji.
When I try to cover my eyes, he pulls my hands away and runs them down his abs. Then he presses them against his ass as he gyrates and undulates in front of me to cheers and whistles as the entire bar stops to watch.
As mortifying as the attention is, Conor is weirdly good at this. And after the initial terror subsides, it becomes pretty hilarious the way he’s playing more goofy than sexy. I find myself laughing along with everyone else, as Foster and Bucky start shouting out the chorus of the song.
It’s all fun and games until it isn’t. Because then I blink and the humor on Conor’s handsome turns into something headier. Heavy-lidded gray eyes fixed on me, he bends slightly and thrusts one hand through my hair. Long fingers tangle in the thick strands.
Time stops.
He’s not dancing anymore. Not moving. Except, he is moving. He’s closing in on me and I know what he’s about to do. He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me here, in front of everyone at Malone’s? No fucking way. He said he likes games, but this one has gotten out of hand.
Before he can press his lips to mine, I launch out of my chair so fast he nearly falls to the floor. I catch only a second of his bewildered look before I run off toward the back corridor. The door there leads out to the alley next to the parking lot, and I stumble into it, relieved to find it empty.
Heart pounding like crazy, I lean against the brick wall behind Malone’s and peel out of my sweater to let the frigid air rush over my skin. My breath comes out as plumes of white, but sweat continues to bead across my chest. It’s barely above freezing, yet in only a camisole I’m still burning up.
“Taylor!” The door flies open. “Taylor, you out here?”
I don’t say a word, hiding in the building’s shadow. I just want him to go away.
“Fuck, there you are.” Conor appears in front of me with worry etched on his perfect face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”