Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
I suck in another drag, my lungs filling to bursting before I blow a long stream of smoke into the air above the bed. He’s still, the sheet lying at our waists, a light sweat gleaming on my chest.
I need a shower.
I need food and water, but I can’t force myself to get up. I know that this entanglement is a mistake without Macon pointing it out to me, but there’s something about Callum Ames I’m doing a shitty job resisting. This is the third time we’ve been together this week, and I rarely see someone three times total.
He’s good at foreplay. It gets me every time. Making me want to fuck him up in ways we both like. Someday, I’ll pass him on the street with his trophy wife and kids, and we’ll share a look, and I’ll say in my head, I know what you feel like.
That’s why I’m doing this. Because it will end, and I’ll get to see him someday and remember the things we did in my bed.
“What does that mean?” he asks me.
I glance over at him, then follow his eyes to the set of parentheses drawn on the wall, next to the door.
I suck on the cigarette again. “Solve the problem in the parentheses first,” I tell him.
I wait for him to ask again, what it means, other than being a mathematical rule. Which I’ll ignore, because it’s none of his business.
He doesn’t ask, though. Good boy.
“I should get going.” He sits up, getting the message. Removing the sheet and scooting down to the bottom of the bed, he grabs his jeans. “Before I have to run into your sister on the stairs before I run into her at school.”
“You won’t still be here in September.”
He jerks his head at me, his eyes thinned in anger.
Then he launches at me and grabs my cigarette. “Damn right I won’t, because you fucking stink.”
I rise and grip his wrist, taking his neck in my other hand and throwing him down on the bed. His blue eyes light up with a smile, and I wrestle him, trying to get a hold of my cigarette as he evades me.
“You’re gonna start a fire,” he points out.
I get the cigarette, prying it out of his hand. “It wouldn’t be the first in this bed.”
I crash down on my side, pulling the sheet back up to my waist again.
When he just sits there on his side, not getting dressed, I glance at him.
“What?”
I shouldn’t even ask. It’s just going to start shit, but his jaw is tight and those eyes look how they did when his father threw that football in his face.
“I don’t want to hear about other people you sleep with,” he says, avoiding my eyes. “You understand?”
I didn’t say shit about other people, just alluded to the fact that nothing but fire happens in this bed. Go piss and moan somewhere else. Jesus.
Fitting the cigarette between my lips, I smoke.
But in a second, he’s on top of me, pressing his forearm into my neck as he stares down like the master of the manor.
His weight constricts my throat, and I can’t take a full breath.
“Do you understand?” he bites out again. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Who the fuck does he think he is?
Snuffing out the last small embers of the cigarette on his chest, I hear him growl as I flip us over and pin him to the bed.
He bares his teeth, trying to push me away as I grapple for his wrists. “You’re not the prince here, rich boy,” I tell him, noting the small pink circle marring his perfect skin. “Here, I say and do whatever the fuck I want.”
Giving me orders as if we’re a fucking couple? What is he, falling in love?
“And you think that makes you free?” he fires back. “Yeah, I can tell. You’re so happy.”
“Fuck you.”
I catch his wrists and slam them to the mattress by his head.
“What if I start paying you, huh?” he spits out. “You’ll say and do whatever the fuck I want, won’t you?”
“How much we talking about here?” I taunt.
How much will he pay for a screw? I don’t mind doing him for free, but if he wants to own my ass for a little while, I might entertain the idea. It’ll cost him, though.
His face softens, his mouth trembling. “I’ll pay you whatever you want,” he whispers.
He stops fighting, and I stare down into his incredible eyes, watching them shimmer.
Like the pool at his house.
He goes on, “As long as you fucking shut up about other people in here. Especially women.”
Why?
Why women?
Does he hate them? Like have a vendetta against them or some shit?
He pushes up, and I slide off of him as he sits there. “I just want one place where I don’t have to watch my back, Dallas.”