Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
He gives my knee a quick squeeze, his hand big and warm on my bare leg. “I saw the photos Knox took. Your pictures were very sexy, but I was hoping to see you model a bikini.”
Logan’s always been cocky, but he’s never been so flirty. Not like this. Maybe this is how he always is on dates, and he’s behaving this way so that I can experience different types of men, like they talked about when they proposed this idea.
It would be hard to say which style I like best if I had to choose. Cade is the easiest to talk to, but Logan definitely keeps me on my toes and keeps things interesting. The date with Ryder was very romantic, and though I haven’t experienced a night out with Knox, I know that I really enjoy making out with him.
“I have a friend whose sister has a big Instagram following,” Logan says. “Would you like me to see if she’ll promote your store?”
“That would be amazing. Yes, thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll see if I can think of anyone else.”
He takes me to a country bar where the music is loud and the crowd is upbeat. The dance floor is packed.
A waitress in a short denim skirt, with her shirt tied up under her breasts, takes our order. Flirty as he’s been tonight, Logan doesn’t give her a second look even though she bats her long eyelashes at him.
When our drinks arrive, he raises his glass in a toast. “To your store’s success!” He clinks his glass against mine. “And to us having a fun night.”
He takes a long drink, and I do the same. We share a few appetizers and talk, though it’s sometimes hard to hear and be heard, even at our small table. We lean close together and Logan puts an arm around me while he speaks next to my ear.
When we’re down to the last jalapeño popper, he offers it to me, and then proceeds to feed it to me, holding it up for me to take multiple bites, letting the tips of his fingers go into my mouth as I get the last bit of it.
A little while after we eat, we head to the dance floor, his hands on my hips as we navigate through the crowd to find a space of our own. I shouldn’t be surprised at his moves, but they are very, very good. The way he moves his body should come with a warning label.
From behind me, he wraps an arm around my middle, holds me close, and sways to a slower song, and I just about burst into flames. He tucks his head in next to mine, his breath warm on my neck, his beard deliciously rough on my cheek.
“You’re a good dancer,” he says at my ear.
When I turn toward him to return his compliment, he steals a kiss, giving me a devilish look afterward in response to my look of pleasant surprise.
The tempo of the music increases with the next song and some of the other people on the dance floor let out enthusiastic whoops and yells. Logan spins me around and pulls me close to his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist while mine go around his neck.
“Want to jump on my back?” he asks with a waggle of his eyebrow. “Want to take a ‘ride’?” He shimmies his hips and winks to make his meaning crystal clear.
My buoyant mood dissolves instantly as the mortification I felt that day on the beach when I was riding on Logan’s back comes rushing back to me. I push him away from me, and turn for the door.
I’m barely off the dance floor when he tries to stop me with a hand on my arm. I spin around to face him. “Take me home. Now.”
The look of hurt surprise on his face almost stops me, but I continue toward the door, and make it all the way to his truck, aware that he’s following me closely the whole way.
I try to open the passenger door but it’s locked. Behind me, Logan’s voice is soft. “Bianca, I’m sorry.”
I turn on him, angry tears falling. “I was having such a fun night, and you ruined it! I can’t believe you would make a joke out of the most embarrassing experience in my life.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I glare at him before looking away, trying hard to blink away my tears.
“Bianca.” He puts hands on my upper arms and steps closer, forcing me to look at him. “Bianca, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I would have never said that if I knew it was such a sore spot, and I should have known it would be.”
His apology is clearly sincere and it softens me a bit.