Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I hold on to his neck, squealing as he spins me around.
“Can you swim?” he asks me.
“What?” I look over my shoulder at the clear blue water. “Yeah. Why—ah!”
My body hits the pool surface with a splash.
As I return to the surface, a grinning Banks stands at the edge.
I tread water, running a hand over my face to clear off my hair and water. “You, Banks Carmichael, are a jerk.”
“Just trying to make you feel at home.” He holds my gaze for a moment until something flickers through his eyes. Then he turns. “Hey, Brooke. Can I take my pizza to go? I need to run by the shop.”
“Sure,” she says. “I guess. You need to go this late? Right now?”
“Tasha is going to kill me if I don’t sign off on this stack of invoices, and I can’t seem to get her to fake my signature.”
Brooke laughs. “That’s probably illegal.”
“Yeah, but who is gonna turn her in? Not me,” he says, following her to the oven.
I climb out of the pool and nod as Moss lays a towel onto a chair beside me. My dress clings to my body. Thank God for my bikini underneath.
Banks watches me while he waits for Brooke to get his pizza onto a plate.
His eyes are heated, warming me from across the room. You want to mess with me? All right. Take this.
Vaguely, I hear Moss and Brooke chatting away about the oven's temperature. I’m just trying not to combust under Banks’s gaze.
I lift the edge of my dress. Water drips onto the decking, creating a little puddle around my feet. I lift it up and over my body, knowing damn good and well Banks hasn’t looked away. As the fabric comes over my head and my eyes find his again, I’m proven right.
His pupils widen, and his bright blue eyes hood. Good lord, I might combust on the spot.
My core clenches as I toss the soaked material onto the ground next to me. I grin smugly, pulling my long hair to the side and twisting the water out of it.
His eyes drop, skimming the length of my body—down my chest, stomach, and thighs. A trail of heat is left in its wake as he draws his attention back the way it came.
I lift a brow, smirking.
Banks’s gaze follows me to the towel and watches intently as I wrap it around my body. Was your little prank funny now, buddy?
“You know how I thought I hated you yesterday when you left my house?” I ask, wrapping the towel around me.
“Yeah.”
“You outdid yourself today.”
He runs his tongue around his lips and then turns to Brooke. He takes the pizza she hands him, and then looks at me over his shoulder as he leaves.
“Hey, Sara,” he says.
“What?”
He gives me a parting wink. “Back at ya, babe.”
Then he’s gone.
6
Sara
I shouldn’t be doing this.
“Yet here I go,” I mutter, exiting Maddox’s back door.
Birds chirp in the trees as I plod my way across the lawn. The late Sunday morning sunshine is bright but not as hot as it has been. Or maybe my insides are still burning, and I don’t notice the outside temperature.
The only good thing about not being able to stop thinking about Banks’s arms around me last night is that it confirmed one thing—I’m not fucked up. My era of being bored with men seems to have passed because I certainly wasn’t apathetic last night. Annoyed that my favorite vibrator is gone, but not apathetic.
To celebrate the matter, or, at the very least, to test beyond Banks, I texted The Businessman to see if he was available this afternoon for a meeting.
“If everything goes right with Brock, he’ll be my fake fiancé by nightfall.”
My stomach twists, but I ignore it.
Banks’s house is blue with crisp white trim and shutters. The porch has a white swing hanging from the rafters, and the garage attached to the side of the house is nearly as big as the living space.
Something about that makes me smile.
I take the five stairs and knock on the front door.
“Who is it?” Banks yells from the other side.
“It’s Sara.”
There’s a pause. “Go away.”
I chuckle and try the handle. It turns in my hand, so I push it open.
The house is open and airy as I step inside the foyer. A bookcase sits to my left next to an archway into the living room. A large clock sits on my right. There is a set of stairs in front of me, and beside them is a walkway leading to the kitchen.
Banks sits at the table in only a pair of shorts.
I gulp and close the door behind me.
His hair is wild, like he just got up, and as I grow closer, I notice his eyes are sleepy. It’s a soft, gentle version of him—and I don’t hate it.