Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Anticipation floods my system. Other than Logan, there hasn’t been much making out going on. I spent most of the summer with my mother—
Best to stop that thought in its tracks. Thinking about Mom will kill the mood, so I’m not going to dwell on her. All my thoughts are on Logan and his very kissable lips that are oh-so-slowly descending toward mine.
My eyes are on the verge of drifting shut when an audible click shatters the silence, and the living room is flooded with bright light. Logan and I leap apart like guilty teenagers who’ve just been caught having sex in the basement by my parents. My hammering heart is lodged somewhere in my throat.
What the—
I blink, focusing my attention on the muscular form leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest and hiss out an exacerbated breath.
Goddamn it.
I should have known better.
Carter fucking Prescott. Or better known as the biggest pain in my ass.
What the hell is he doing here?
He’s supposed to be out getting his drunk on with Noah and holding court with his fan club. I overheard them discussing their plans earlier this afternoon.
Was I eavesdropping?
Please, as if…
What I was doing is a little something called recon. I humph out an irritated breath for all the good it did me. This is precisely the situation I was hoping to avoid.
I blink and realize with another wave of shock that Carter isn’t wearing any clothes. How did I miss that? He casually rests against the wall in a pair of white, torso-hugging briefs stamped with red and black roosters.
What.
The.
Hell?
I could seriously die right now. Someone needs to shoot me and put me out of my misery before this gets any worse.
Too late.
Logan stiffens beside me. And not in the way I was hoping for, either.
Before I have a chance to blast Carter into next week, he saunters into the room and plops himself down on the ugly, oversized recliner situated across from us. I hate that eyesore and opposed it being moved into the apartment.
I was overruled.
Unaware, or—more accurately—uncaring that I’m about to blow a gasket, Carter lifts his chin in Logan’s direction. “Hey, what’s up?”
I sputter in anger. Carter’s all nonchalant, as if he’s not strutting around practically naked and interrupting my date.
Poor Logan doesn’t know what to make of the situation.
“Ahhh…” he falters and stares wide-eyed as if Carter is a horrific traffic accident that he’s unable to rip his eyes away from.
I feel much the same way.
We’re talking bodies strewn across the pavement and several fatalities.
You can bet that once I get my hands on Carter, he’s going to be one of them.
Carter sits with his legs spread wide. Unfortunately, both Logan and I are treated to an excellent view of his rather impressive package.
Crap. Did I seriously just think that?
Logan averts his gaze and mutters from the side of his mouth, “Who is this guy and what’s he doing in your apartment?”
Wanting to downplay the situation, I wave a hand in Carter’s direction as if what’s happening is perfectly normal. “Oh…him?” I force out a chuckle. “He’s just one of my roommates.”
Logan’s brows skyrocket across his forehead as his eyes pop wide. Under different circumstances, the expression would be comical. Sadly, this is not one of those occasions. My prospects for the evening have officially tanked. A smirk settles around the corners of Carter’s lips as if he’s reached the same conclusion.
Grrrr.
Logan shoots me a confused look. “You live with a dude?”
I bite my lower lip, racking my brain for a plausible explanation that will smooth over the situation and get us back on track. But my mind remains blank. There’s nothing but crickets chirping up there.
“Actually, she lives with two dudes,” Carter unhelpfully supplies.
Logan’s face contorts with shock. “Is that true?”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I clear my now bone-dry throat. “Well, um, yes.”
“Are you two like,” Logan narrows his eyes and waggles a finger between us, “a thing? Because I’m not getting in the middle of some weird dating situation.”
“What? No!” I let loose a high-pitched, nervous giggle that sounds ridiculously loud in the stillness of the apartment and babble, “We’re not a thing! Not at all!”
I wait for Carter to jump in and open his big fat trap, but he remains quiet. I’m going to throttle him with my bare hands. It’s the only thought getting me through the moment.
“I live with my cousin,” I mutter. “And his friend.”
Logan flicks a skeptical look in Carter’s direction, but since he’s still reclining with his legs spread and his manhood proudly on display, my date quickly averts his eyes. “Please tell me this is your cousin,” Logan pleads.
“It’s not.” As soon as I mumble the words, I know that as promising as our evening started out, this is the end.