Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.” She snaps her teeth at me.
I glance at Willow and Maverick. “Threatening bodily harm is her love language.”
“I don’t make threats. I make promises.”
When that bone-chilling comment is met with silence, I steer Holland toward the staircase. “On that note, we’re going to skedaddle.” I lift a hand in a wave. “Have a good night.”
We’re halfway up to the second floor when Willow says, “We’ll talk more in the morning, Holland.”
“Now that sounded like a threat,” I say beneath my breath.
“Because it is.”
As soon as we cross the threshold and step inside my room, I close the door. Not even a second later, Holland whirls around and punches me in the gut. It happens so fast I don’t see it coming until it’s much too late. I do the only thing I can and double over as the air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Western University Chat App
FragileLikeABomb
You’ve got intrigue down. What else you got?
ColdAsIce17
Humor. Charm. An impeccable taste in usernames.
FragileLikeABomb
Debatable on all three counts.
ColdAsIce17
Ouch. You don’t hold back, do you?
FragileLikeABomb
Why would I? Life’s short, and I don’t do sugarcoating.
ColdAsIce17
Noted. I’ll save my sweet tooth for someone else, then.
FragileLikeABomb
Someone else? Please. You’re already hooked.
ColdAsIce17
Cocky and complicated? A dangerous combination.
FragileLikeABomb
And yet, here you are.
11
Holland
“What the hell was that for?” Bridger wheezes, clutching his abdomen. He might be all hard, chiseled muscle, but I aimed well. One of Mom’s exes was an amateur boxer, and he taught me how to throw a proper punch. It’s come in handy more times than I care to admit.
“For telling our friends that we’re together,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring.
“Did you have a better explanation as to why you were stepping foot inside this house with me?” His voice is still breathless, but there’s that damn smirk again. The one that makes me want to simultaneously punch him and—
No.
Just punch him.
“If you’d given me a moment, I’m sure I could have pulled something out of my ass!” I huff. “And what the hell was with all the nuzzling and sweet cheeks shit down there?”
“I thought it added authenticity to the story. You know, really sold it.”
With narrowed eyes, I jab a finger toward him. “We don’t have a story. Now everyone’s going to think we’re having sex.”
“Hate to break it to you, muffin, but most people who are dating do that sort of thing.”
“Except we’re not actually dating. And we’re certainly never going to do that again.”
He straightens as challenge sparks in his eyes. Not only is it sharp, it’s dangerous enough to make my stomach flip. “You sure about that?”
I tighten my arms around myself, as if they’re some kind of shield against the way his words crawl under my skin. “Positive.”
His gaze drills into me as the corners of his lips curl in a way that makes my pulse stutter. The tension is only broken when he shrugs, moving toward his dresser. “Suit yourself, sweet cheeks.”
“Stop calling me that!”
Ignoring me, he pulls off his shirt.
My gaze drops before I can stop it, taking in the hard planes of his chest and the subtle dusting of hair that leads down—
Nope.
I’m definitely not looking there.
My cheeks heat as I whip around and rummage through my duffel bag, racking my brain for a way out of this mess.
Nothing comes to mind.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I demand without turning around.
He chuckles. The sound is low and infuriating. “Getting ready for bed. What’s wrong? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”
I mutter under my breath, yanking out a tank top and shorts. With my back turned to him, I strip off my shirt and bra, trying not to think about the fact that he’s just a few feet away. The thin black tank slides over my head, hugging my curves as I pull down my leggings. The heat of his gaze feels more like a physical caress.
Hoping that it’s just my imagination, I glance over my shoulder and then scowl when I catch him watching me. “Do you mind?”
He flashes a grin. One that’s full of mischief and meant to irritate. He knows all my buttons to push. “Not at all. Please, continue. It was just getting interesting.”
“Turn around, Sanderson,” I snap.
He raises a brow, clearly enjoying himself. “For someone who strips in front of an audience, you’re surprisingly shy.”
“That’s a job that pays the bills,” I bite out with an icy glare that hopefully shrivels his balls.
He smothers the laughter brimming on his lips. “Relax, Tate. You can have a little bit of privacy while I use the bathroom.” He grabs something off the dresser before strolling out.
It’s not until the door clicks shut behind him that I realize I’ve been holding my breath. A shaky exhale leaves my body as I lean against the bed for a moment and try to calm my racing heart. Being around Bridger feels like standing too close to a fire. Warm, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.