Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“When was that?”
“Nine years ago I guess? Something like that. I was eighteen when I became a prospect.”
“So now you take classes for fun? Have you ever thought of doing something else with your life? Enrolling for real and—” The look on Bull’s face stops me.
“And what? Get a fucking desk job? No fucking thank you.” Bull laughs. “I like learning shit, and I found out a lot of the big universities put classes online for free. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove anything, and I sure as fuck don’t want anyone telling me what I need to study. I’m glad you like all that shit, Rory, but I wouldn’t last a semester.”
I nod, wondering how many bits and pieces of degrees he’s collected over the years just for the heck of it.
“Is that disappointing?” he asks softly.
“What? No! I think it’s really impressive actually. I like what I do, but… can I tell you a secret?”
“Is it hot?” He takes a swig from his beer, then passes it to me.
I take a sip. It’s bitter but I like the cold. “When I was younger, I thought that if I could just be smart enough, and do well enough, then people would have to notice me. It sort of worked, but it turns out you can’t buy love with good grades.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right nerd,” Bull says with a chuckle.
I hand the bottle back, tracing the end of a tattoo that extends onto his fingers. “Do you think?”
Flirting with Bull makes my stomach a little fluttery. We had sex practically before we even knew each other, but now it feels like we were totally different people then, even though it was only a couple days ago. I’ve never done things backwards like this. Being physical and then discovering the person behind the act.
“Are you the right nerd?” It just falls out of me, but the way a sudden smile spreads on his face makes me want to keep pushing.
“I'm listening.”
“Obviously I fell for your muscles,” I say as I move closer to him, pressing my hand against his chest, “But it’s your big… wet… brain that really does it for me.”
“You sound like a fucking zombie.” But he laughs and wraps his big arms around me. “I don't know whether I should be flattered or scared.”
I twist around so I can look up at him. “Flattered, definitely. I’m not a zombie, but I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of you.”
“Oh? Still curious if I taste like strawberry, huh?”
“Maybe.” He scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the couch, where he sits with me in his lap resting my face against his chest. I can think of a lot worse places to be.
“I do think it's cool that you're studying stuff. I wasn't joking about that. I told you my mother’s an artist, right? I always wondered what it would be like to go to school for something fun, just because you want to. Every class I’ve taken since I was thirteen was chosen specifically in how it would benefit Dad.”
“Yeah, you get it.” He slides his fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp with his strong fingers. “I'm glad we were on that flight.”
“Really?” I play with his shirt, tracing the folds in it with my fingertips. “Even though it crashed and caught on fire and all the trouble you ended up with?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That was the best part!”
That makes me laugh. “You're a wildman.”
His hand slips up the bottom of my shirt, tracing circles on my bare skin. “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best part. That was definitely the hot stewardess.”
The moment lingers, right up until I feel that I have to say something. “So… about that taste?”
He laughs. “I’m not going to stop you, angel.”
I slide off his lap and onto my knees on the carpet. He pulls his belt open and yanks down the zipper. Biting my lip, I look up at him and hook my fingers in his jeans. He lifts his hips so I can pull them down, and then peels his shirt off and throws it aside. The huge lump in his boxer briefs has my mouth watering already.
Bull kicks his jeans off to the side, but when I reach for his underwear, he blocks me and bends down to grab my shirt. “I wanna fucking see you.”
I hold my hands up as he tugs the shirt over my head and drops it on the floor. Eager to get back to unwrapping him, I reach behind and release the hooks on my bra. I hold the cups in place with my hands long enough that he groans and steals it. “Stop fucking hiding.”
I arch my back a little. My breasts aren’t the biggest, but I get no complaints as he touches the outsides of them with his fingertips, dragging them up and down. His hands are rough and callused, but I like the little scratch of it. It reminds me that he's a man who does things with his hands, and when he cups them and flicks his thumbs over my nipples, I let out a little moan, right before I grip his wrists and push them away. “Stop distracting me.”