Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Kiera’s eyes lift to mine as she hovers over the table, knowing her shirt is open and I can see straight down it. I don’t avert my gaze but take what she’s offering.
When she’s done, I grab my pool stick and line up the cue ball. Kiera comes close and I twist my neck to talk to her. “Do you mind?”
She gives me an innocent look.
“I can’t concentrate when you’re that close,” I grumble.
“Why ever not?”
“You know why,” I say and attempt to ignore her as I bend at the waist to break the rack.
Kiera moves even closer, resting her hip on the table. My eyes cut over to her brother, but Drake is fully involved with Brienne and not watching.
My gaze goes to Kiera. “You like distracting me.”
“Turnabout’s fair play. You putting your finger in my mouth kind of threw me off stride.”
I can’t help but laugh and it breaks some of the sexual tension. I pull back the stick, slam it forward with surety and the cue ball decimates her rack. Two solids and a stripe sink into the pockets.
It’s still my shot, but I take the opportunity to address the elephant in the room between us. “You going to let me come home with you tonight?”
“I am,” she says, and tension I’d been carrying all night seeps out through my pores, leaving me languid and mellow.
“Good,” I reply and turn for the table, but another thought strikes. I again glance over at Drake, satisfied his attention is still focused on Brienne. When my eyes are back on Kiera, I say, “I know we’ve been doing a lot of flirting and teasing, but I’m really not looking for a relationship. Whatever this is between us… it’s just casual, right?”
Kiera scrunches up her face. “Please… the thought of a relationship makes me slightly nauseated. This is nothing more than getting our rocks off. Then we’re going our own way.”
Hmmm… not sure how I feel about this being a onetime-only thing, but I’ll worry about that later. “Sounds like we’re on the same page, then.”
Suddenly, the jukebox is turned off and someone calls out, “It’s almost time.”
Stevie has televisions all around the bar and the volume is turned up. There’s one right across from us on a wall-mounted bracket broadcasting a show in Times Square to watch the ball drop. The timer on the top left of the screen shows about thirty seconds until midnight.
Pity that I can’t kiss Kiera as the New Year rings in. This thing with us has to be on the down low. Couples pair off, moving toward the TVs with their arms around each other. I ignore it all and walk around the table for my next shot, which I miss.
I hand the stick to Kiera and enjoy watching her instead of the countdown. She’s a horrible player, but my eyes would rather be on her than anywhere.
Everyone in the bar chants the numbers. “Ten… nine… eight…”
She misses and by the time she’s handing me the stick, it’s New Year’s and everyone is cheering, blowing toy horns and kissing.
I accept the pool cue from her, my hand closing over hers and not letting go for several long moments as we stare at each other. I hope she sees in my eyes that I’ll make up for it later… this inability to claim her mouth as the new year rolls in.
We can’t kiss but we’re touching, and for some weird reason, I can’t remember another New Year’s Eve party I’ve been to. I also intrinsically know I’ll never forget this moment because it’s the lightest of foreplay before I delve into something that’s going to be combustible later on.
CHAPTER 4
Kiera
Bain and I are slightly drunk when we get into the Uber. My urge is to climb right onto Bain’s lap and kiss him, but I don’t want to cause an accident if the driver is watching. As it stands, Bain is holding my hand—he took it the minute we slid into the back seat—and has it perched on his thigh with my palm resting against the denim.
I can’t stop thinking about what’s resting a few inches higher. Would he get hard if I stroked him with my thumb, the only part of my hand that’s mobile? Would he think that too forward? What would happen if I kissed him?
“… for a living?”
“What?” I ask, bringing my gaze from our clasped hands to Bain’s face. It’s shadowed with temporary flickers of light across it as we meet oncoming cars.
He knows I’m distracted and it amuses him. His mouth curves, and now I can only think about kissing it. “I asked what you did for a living?”
For a living?
What do I do?
“Oh,” I exclaim, as if I just got the answer to final Jeopardy. I do indeed know what I do for a living. “I’m an oncology nurse.”