Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“Guilty.” My face is hot, but the humor kindling in his gaze stops my embarrassment in its tracks. “It’s an annoying impulse I should probably keep to myself.”
“I can relate, Shea. I remodel every room I walk into.”
“I’m not alone, then,” I say breathily, his undivided attention making me feel warm.
For the second time since we arrived, his attention carries downward to the apex of my thighs and the strangest thing happens. I feel that flesh turn kind of swollen…and puffy.
Am I having an allergic reaction to something?
Is it visible through my sleep shorts?
I clasp my hands together in front of the spot, just in case.
Mr. Ruston quickly averts his gaze, coughing into a fist. “Guest room is this way.”
two
Jason
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve finally got my kid to come over. Haven’t seen her since I took her out to breakfast for her birthday earlier this year. This would be an ideal time to reconnect with Emma, find out how she’s doing. How she likes her classes. But I can’t stop staring at her roommate.
Shea.
An eighteen-year-old girl.
Same age as my own daughter.
That alone should be enough to keep me from looking. But hell, Shea is not making it easy. For one, she keeps sneaking glances in my direction. While my daughter chooses her side of the guest room, Shea appears to be determining the size of my jeans, that curious gaze measuring me up from head to toe. I am not used to that kind of female attention anymore. I’m way out of practice with the opposite sex and I don’t have time for dating. My construction company runs me ragged seven days a week and only continues to expand, requiring more of my time and effort.
Another reason Shea makes it hard to concentrate…is that body.
She showed up here in a little pair of booty shorts and a tank top. Now, I know that was not her fault. They had to run out of the apartment in whatever they were wearing. But damn, her figure does not match her innocent vibe whatsoever.
This girl is a tight little turn-on.
There, I admitted it. Let the shame swallow me whole.
That honey-blonde hair. Those plump lips.
A set of big, perky tits that are making my briefs feel confining.
The seam of those see-through shorts has me thinking about that soft, pink seam between her thighs. How one little yank of those underwear-style bottoms would reveal that pretty slit. How she’d blush when I drew them down and started licking like a starving man. A lot like she’s blushing right now, because my gaze won’t stop tracking over to those ass cheeks, barely contained. Sumptuous.
Young. Way too young.
I’ve had my share of casual hookups. I’m a red-blooded man. But they were all with women my own age. I live in a town adjacent to the university and I see female students everywhere. I’ve never even looked twice at a single one of them. Not interested.
What is it about Shea that’s getting my blood so goddamn hot?
“Thank you again for letting us stay here, Mr. Ruston,” Shea says softly, coming close enough for her scent to reach me. I have no idea how to identify the fresh, lively notes. I only know her smell is insanely appealing, as if her appearance and sweet demeanor aren’t already giving me enough to contend with.
“I told you to call me Jason.”
All right, that came out a lot gruffer than intended, but she nods slowly and eagerly, like the order has her mesmerized. “I’ll try.”
Good girl.
Jesus Christ, don’t say that aloud. I’m not sure I’ve ever said those two words in my life. Am I losing my mind?
“You guys must be hungry,” I say, desperately trying to seem normal, even though my brain insists on picturing this eighteen-year-old girl naked. “I can order…”
“Sushi?” Emma says, hopefully.
I’m allergic to fish, but in the spirit of divorced dads everywhere, I give the kid what she wants. “Sure. It’s on me.”
“Great!” Emma bounds toward the ensuite bathroom. “Shea, can you put the order in? I’m going to take a quick shower. I never got the chance before the sky fell.” She closes the bathroom door behind her, yelling, “You know my order!”
I slide my phone out of my back pocket and tap the screen a few times, pulling up the food delivery app. I hand the device to Shea, trying not to hiss when our fingers meet and she turns pink. “Here,” I say. “Go crazy.”
She looks up at me, shaking her long hair back over her shoulders. “What would you like to eat…Jason?”
Hell, don’t ask me that. It definitely isn’t on the takeout menu. “Nothing for me. I’ve got a fish allergy, so sushi isn’t my go-to. But I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge. Throw in a beer and I’m happy.”