Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Flutters go off in my stomach.
“I can …” My cheeks grow hot. “Do something else, too.”
I can’t look at him all of a sudden. I stare at his stomach and whisper, “Something they don’t do at Flamingo Flo’s.”
He doesn’t move, and while it almost makes me nauseous to have his full attention, I’m on fire.
“Please don’t get mad, okay?” I know he would never laugh at me, but I also know he doesn’t like to be pushed.
Crossing my arms over my waist, I grab the hem of my sweatshirt and pull it up over my head, bringing my T-shirt with it. Eyes still lowered, I let the clothes drop from my arm to the floor. I wait just long enough to see if he’s going to stop me, and when he doesn’t, I stand there in my pale blue lacy bra and start to unfasten my jeans.
“You don’t have to touch me,” I tell him. “Just please don’t look at my face.”
But he does. His gaze burns my cheeks.
“Will you turn on the water?” I ask, gently pushing down my jeans for him. “A little warm, if you can?”
I feel his eyes travel down my body, to the lace of my matching underwear, and up to my bra that doesn’t hide the hard points of my nipples.
He leans in, and I hold my breath as he turns on the water behind me. I hear it spill into the sink. “Switch over to the hose,” I say.
He pauses, but then … he flips the lever, and the water changes over, spilling out of the hose and onto the cement floor. A stream pours out of the garage, carried by the slight slant of the foundation, and I bend over, picking up the hose.
Inching my underwear down my thighs, I twist my leg out, open myself up, and let the dribble of water spill over my clit. I watch it wetting me, teasing the tender skin, and in a moment, the pulse starts to throb and heat floods me down low as I grow wet.
What’s the worst that’ll happen? He’ll yell at me? Make me feel stupid?
Pushing my thumb into the mouth of the hose, the water shoots hard, spraying against my nub, and it feels so good, I close my eyes.
I move into it, breathing harder as I rock my body just a little and roll the spray in slow circles over my clit again and again.
I wish he’d touch me. I would let him.
I try not to, but I raise my eyes and meet his, locked on my face. My heart punches my chest. He’s not watching the show. He’s watching me. I told him not to.
But he’s not stopping me.
Water spills down my legs, drenching my clothes. I lean back into the sink, watching the water cascade over my body. “I tried my fingers,” I tell him. “And a vibrator, but I like this the best. Sometimes I’m in the shower for a while, lying in the tub with the showerhead, and … doing it to myself again and again.”
A wave of pleasure courses through my body, and I sigh, my chest caving.
“I’m scared of you,” I whisper to him. “I’m scared of what they said about you in whispers all while I was in high school, and even more scared of how I thought about you when I didn’t even know you.” My mind would drift to an idea of Macon Jaeger, and how even though he had a houseful of family and a whole tribe on his side, I still always thought of him as on his own against the world.
“But mostly …” I gasp, “I’m scared when you look at me, which you’ve only done five times since I first walked into your house.” I wet my lips, looking at his and hating how those stories I heard left out so much about how he works so hard that he doesn’t sleep. I remember every time our eyes have met. “And I’m scared of why I would have gone to that club with your brothers tonight only if you were going to be there, too.”
I wanted to go. I just didn’t want to leave without him.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve seen my body, is it?” I ask, but I can’t look at him. “Did you watch me by the pool the other night?”
Army, Trace, and Dallas were at Mariette’s after Red Right Hand.
“I think about you,” I murmur. “Do you ever think about me? Do you even know I exist most of the time?”
I lean in, the top of my head just under his chin.
“Hold it,” I tell him, guiding his hand to the hose.
He takes it, and I pull my hair out of the ponytail, watching his chest rise and fall faster as I unhook my bra and drop it to the ground.