Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Cash takes a moment to authenticate the honesty in his tone.
It is a painfully long three seconds before he eventually returns him to his feet.
After fixing his shirt, Reynolds dips his chin in farewell before sulking toward his room.
He is only just out of earshot when my curiosity gets the best of me. “What game were you referencing?”
“It’s nothing,” Cash replies, his voice as icy as the hand he places on my back to guide me down the sidewalk. “And even if it were, it would never involve you, so you don’t need to worry about it.”
“Is that really your decision to make?”
I mean in regards to making my own decisions, but Cash doesn’t take it that way. “Yeah, it is. If you’re with me, you are untouchable. I don’t give a fuck about the supposed bro code.” Unlike only seconds ago, his voice is now as hot as lava.
He must feel it too because he removes his basketball jacket before handing it to me.
When I curl it over my arm, he peers at me with lines marred between his brows. “I gave it to you to wear, Einstein. It’s cold out, and your dress is—”
“Tiny. I get it.” While rolling my eyes, I put on his jacket, grimacing when its waistband sits past my knees. I chose this dress because of its inappropriate hemline. “Better?”
“Much.” He pulls me toward him in a similar fashion he did Reynolds so he can do up the zipper. Then, once he’s satisfied I’m wearing the same frumpy clothes I usually wear, he continues our short trek to his frat house.
It is made in silence, which makes the nerves in my stomach even more noticeable. The last two times I was around Cash’s fraternity brothers, I made out I was a sexpot who needed more than the biggest stud on campus could give her instead of the naïve virgin I am.
I haven’t even been kissed, for crying out loud.
“Maybe we should skip festivities tonight. I’m not feeling good.”
Cash drops his eyes to mine but continues walking. “What’s wrong? Do you have cramps or something?” He places the hand not circled around mine onto my head before adding, “You don’t have a temp, but that’s normal, right?”
“You’re not talking about muscle cramps, are you?”
He screws up his face before shaking his head. “But if that’s your issue, you can jump on my back. I don’t mind carrying you. You hardly weigh a thing.”
I almost accept his offer until I remember I’m meant to be mad at him. You can’t glue your panties to someone’s back when you’re angry at them for relieving the tension that’s been burning between you the past few weeks. Furthermore, there’s no way the tight hemline of my newly purchased dress will allow my thighs to wrap around his back without it resembling a belt, so I have to keep my feet planted on the ground.
“Thanks, but I’m good. I don’t have any cramps.”
I realize his menstruation question was to push me out of my comfort zone when he asks, “Then what’s your issue?”
“I’m nervous,” I confess, deciding honesty should always be my number one policy.
I guess that also means I shouldn’t be so hard on Cash about giving in to temptation. After a severe bout of flirting during our tutoring session on Wednesday, I was tempted to give the devil’s doorbell a ring, and I have no clue what I’m doing.
Cash sounds genuinely shocked when he asks, “About Gabriel?”
I shake my head. “We’ve talked a couple of times the past couple of weeks.” I wait for the spasm in his jaw to weaken before admitting, “I made out to your frat brothers that I’m experienced… when I’m not.”
“And that concerns you because…”
“Because I’ve given them the wrong impression. I’m not experienced.”
Cash shrugs off my worry as if it isn’t factual. “Maybe not at kissing and all that other stuff.” I almost hyperventilate while recalling how much I’ve yet to do. “But your smart, you know your way around an insult, and you’ve not had one issue putting me in my place the past month. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He chuckles about my shocked expression before doubling it. “Just don’t count cards tonight, or I’ll have to call you out as a cheat.” When my mouth gapes to hide my annoyance that he ruined my plan to achieve my first and most likely only trophy, he closes it before saying, “Cheaters never prosper, Einstein.” He soothes the sting of his burn by adding, “And poker is all about reading people. You seem to be good at that, so I don’t see you facing too many issues.”
Before I can tell him I nosedive big time every time he’s near, he increases the length of his strides, bringing mine to a jog.
Then, not long later, we enter the mellow yet still-happening party.