Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
It’s not long before we’re sitting down with glasses of cold brew, bagels, and yogurt. I’m still not sure what his motives are, but by the time we start the movie and I’m halfway through my bagel, I don’t feel entirely uneasy. I can even let myself sink into the story, which is a lot funnier and wittier than I expected.
Everything’s fine until I glance Carter’s way. He’s grinning, at peace as he watches the movie on the other end of the sofa. He looks younger, somehow. At ease.
But all I can think about is last night. There was something different in his kiss. The way he held me close. Even the briefest thought has my heart beating faster until I have to look away, back toward the TV. Staring at him is too dangerous.
But a few glances aren’t any better. I can’t help it. Every time he moves—stretching his legs out, crossing his ankles on the coffee table, folding his arms—it attracts my attention. I can’t help the impulse to study his muscular legs, visible thanks to the loose shorts he’s wearing. His arms, so thick, remind me of what a challenge it was to remove myself from his embrace.
My attention drifts to his crotch just when he glances my way at the worst possible time. Dammit. I look away, but my cheeks are hot. He has to know what I was thinking.
And he does, and of course, nothing’s going to stop him from rubbing it in my face. “See something you like?” he asks, sounding smug, like only he can.
“I was just looking over.” And now I’m staring at the TV, but of course, I’ve lost track of the story.
“Maybe you should come a little closer so you won’t have to look.” I scoff and roll my eyes. But he’s like a dog with a bone when he gets an idea in his head. “Come on. Sit over here in my lap.”
And there goes my whole body, going hot. “I’m comfortable over here.”
“It’s not an invitation. It’s an order.” He pauses, then adds, “Don’t forget, I have those pictures of you. I don’t think sitting in my lap is such a punishment. Unless you want everybody to see them—”
“Okay, okay.” Really, he needs to get some new material. I hate having to do as he says, but I hate not trusting him even more. I can’t put anything past him.
And maybe, just maybe, I don’t hate the idea of sitting in his lap. But I’d rather bite off my own tongue than admit it.
He takes his feet off the coffee table and plants them on the floor, patting his thighs. I roll my eyes before climbing over and settling in—slowly, not all at once.
So of course, he has to make a big deal about it. “You’re so stiff.” There’s laughter in his voice because, of course, he’s enjoying making me as uncomfortable as possible. But he doesn’t take advantage the way I thought he immediately would. One of his arms is draped over the arm of the couch, while he rests the other on a throw pillow he tosses across my thighs. There’s no hint of trying to grope or tickle or anything like that.
I seriously wish I could make sense of him. I thought for sure he would find a way to get back at me for rejecting him last night, but right now, he’s being nicer to me than he ever has. Granted, he’s sort of forcing me into it, but not so he can be cruel or anything.
Slowly, I relax, leaning against him. By the time Tony Stark announces he’s Iron Man, I can laugh genuinely. “That was good! How many of those are there?”
“There are three Iron Man movies, but like more than thirty movies in the Marvel universe.”
I hope he doesn’t think that’s how we’re spending the next two weeks. “And you watched all of them?”
“A lot of people have.” When I can’t help but widen my eyes in surprise, he snickers. “What? Why is that so unbelievable?”
Because I can’t make this new image of him line up with the guy who throws naked parties when his dad’s out of town. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“I think there are probably a lot of things you wouldn’t guess.” He winks with a smirk. “Like how not everybody’s out to hurt you all the time. It took you a little while to relax, but nothing bad happened, right?”
And there goes any goodwill that was built up today. With a sinking heart, I climb out of his lap and straighten my long-sleeved cardigan with trembling hands. For once, it’s not fear making me tremble.
“Thanks for throwing that in my face,” I whisper.
His head snaps back—can he genuinely be surprised? “I wasn’t trying to throw anything in your face.”