Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Regardless, nothing has ever made me want to be next quite like Hattie Ward. Nothing else has ever made me want to be soft or sweet or the kind of man made for a girl like her, either.
She's dangerous. So fucking dangerous.
"Yes, you did!" she cries. "You said anyone would be stupid to date me."
What the fuck?
"I did not say that, Hattie."
"You said—"
"I said I was getting you out of there before you decided to ask anyone else to date you, and they were stupid enough to say yes," I growl. "I know what I said. Nowhere in there did I say anyone would be stupid to date you."
Anyone who dates her is going to be the luckiest motherfucker on the planet. And I'm going to choke on my own jealousy.
"I fail to see the difference."
I sigh, pulling to the side of the road. I can't have this conversation and drive. I can't think with her sitting right beside me. Christ, I can't think when I turn and see her eyes locked on my face, either. They're dilated and glossy from the vodka, and still so fucking gray my dick throbs.
"The difference is that you look like sex in that dress," I say, my hands locked tightly around the steering wheel. "And my teammates are all idiots. Any one of them would kill to get their hands on you, and then I'd have to help Tye hide bodies."
"Oh." She sinks back in her seat, mulling this over before she decides I've lost it. "You probably need glasses, Sidney."
"The fuck I do, butterfly. I see just fine."
"Not if you think I look like sex," she grumbles. "I can't even breathe with these Spanx on. The wire in my bra has been jabbing me all night. And I stabbed myself in the eye with the eyelash curler twice." She meets my gaze, hers wide. "If this is the price of beauty, can I please opt out?"
She needs absolutely none of that to be the most gorgeous woman in the room.
"Why the fuck are you wearing Spanx?"
"Ask my mom," she says, shrugging. "She's the one who swears every woman needs a good bra, a better pair of torture underwear, and enough Botox to turn back the clocks."
Jesus Christ.
"Take them off."
"What?"
"If they're bothering you, take them off."
"But…" She gapes at me like I just suggested she get naked and ride me on the side of the road. "You'll see."
"I'll close my eyes," I growl, approximately two seconds from hauling her onto my lap to strip them from her perfect body myself. No fucking way is she riding all the way across town in a waist trainer she damn sure doesn't need. If I didn't respect the hell out of Tye, I'd throttle their mother for forcing her into the damn thing in the first place.
Her curves are perfect. She's soft in every single way, every inch of her designed to sink into. Believe me, I know. I've spent more time than I care to admit with my hand on my cock, fantasizing about her.
She stares at me silently for a long moment and then shrugs. "Okay, but no peeking, Sidney. My underwear is embarrassing."
Jesus Christ. I'm not going to survive the trip to her place.
I snap my eyes closed when she unlatches her belt and lifts her hips. That lasts all of five seconds before I crack one open, unable to resist stealing a little glimpse. What? I need to know what she considers embarrassing underwear. Sue me.
I damn near bite through my tongue, trying not to laugh as she wriggles around, trying to conquer the Spanx and maintain a modicum of dignity. She's the least graceful woman I've ever met. She proves it now. Somehow, she manages to crack her knee on the dashboard, get tangled up in the seatbelt, nearly fall onto the floor, and then get tangled in the Spanx before she finally gets them down, red in the face and mumbling under her breath.
I catch a glimpse of her underwear right before her ass lands in the seat again. Christ Almighty. There are cupcakes on them. She has cupcakes covering her…cupcake.
I've never wanted to eat something more.
"Jesus, take the wheel."
"What's that?"
"I asked if you were finished," I lie, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to snap the motherfucker in half.
I cannot fuck her on the side of the road.
I cannot fuck her on the side of the road.
I cannot fu—
"I'm finished," she says sweetly.
I pop my eyes open to see her cramming a wad of fabric down the front of her dress.
"No pockets." She grins at me.
My life is hell. It's absolute hell.
Neither of us speaks as I pull back out onto the road, heading toward her place, but I feel her eyes on me. She's blatantly staring.
"What?" I finally growl when we're a few minutes from her place.