Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Savannah and her friends take seats at a small table, the guy nudging his chair closer to hers until their thighs touch. My grip tightens on my glass, something flaring within me.
“Send another to her table,” I tell the guy behind the bar. In minutes, the cocktail arrives at her table, and Savannah’s head turns to me before she can fight the impulse. I watch her friends ask her questions about it, and smile as their eyes land on me.
I swear there’s a flicker of jealousy in the man’s dark gaze, and I hold his stare. He puts his arm around the back of her chair, turning Savannah’s attention back to them even as he narrows his eyes at me. Acute anger shoots through me at the move, the word mine playing on a loop in my brain. Logically, I’m aware that I have no claim to her, not really, but I can’t deny the bone-deep surety that she belongs with me. Only me.
The man’s brow raises, a smug smirk crossing his lips.
A challenge, then.
I hold his stare. The man looks away first.
I never lose, not at board games or chess or even silly bets made in jest. I’m certainly not about to lose the most important prize I’ve ever wanted.
2
SAVANNAH
“Who is that?” Polly hisses from across the table, her eyes wide.
My face burns with embarrassment at my friend’s questions. I can feel the man’s eyes on me, and I’m shaking with the effort not to turn around and meet his dark gaze.
“I slipped and spilled my drink on him, so he got me a new one. That’s all,” I answer, sipping my cocktail to stop myself from saying anything more. My body hums with the memory of his body near mine, the scent of his cologne, and the warmth of his hand on my elbow, steadying me.
“He’s hot,” she says, mouth dropping open exaggeratedly.
She’s right, though. He’s so hot I swear I was burning just standing beside him. He’s obviously older than me, but in a way that gives him an aura of success and control. He’s not intimidating even though I probably should be intimidated by someone like him. Instead, his strong presence makes me feel oddly…safe.
His short dark hair is meticulously styled, his suit cut perfectly to frame his muscular body. I don’t even want to imagine how much money his shirt cost, not when I destroyed it. I doubt the meager amount left in my savings would even cover half of it.
God, I’m so embarrassed that I contemplate bailing on my friends and leaving early. Besides, there’s no chance the hot stranger is going to want me now, not with Polly here. She’s far prettier than me, with her perfect slender body and narrow waist. She exudes confidence, and I’ve never seen a man manage to resist her.
I’ve humiliated myself enough tonight without having to deal with the rejection from the most desirable man I’ve ever met.
“Maybe I’ll spill my drink on him next,” Polly continues, wiggling her brows.
I laugh, but I’m not really paying attention. When they suggested coming out tonight to celebrate my new job, I agreed readily, thinking a drink would help settle my nerves. Instead, I’m already dreaming of the new fluffy blanket I have at home and scrolling Netflix for a rom-com to lose myself in.
I only met this group of friends a few weeks ago when I moved here, and they’re nice enough and easy to be with. But it’s clear I’m the outsider, even to me. The others are chatting about a party I wasn’t at, and I feel awkward sitting there with Chris’ arm around the back of my chair.
“I’m just gonna go freshen up,” I tell them, awkwardly shuffling my chair away from the table and grabbing my handbag.
The bathrooms are through a heavy wooden door, and I nearly slip in my heels as I shove my way through. I pause for a second in the hallway beyond, inhaling deeply. The thick door blocks out most of the noise from the bar, and I lean against the brick wall.
One hot stranger shouldn’t affect me so much, but I can feel the dampness between my legs. There’s no denying the fact that I want him. The attraction is physical, clearly, but somehow feels deeper than that.
The few minutes I spent with him made me feel something I’ve never felt before, something I don’t even know how to explain. I want to know him—in bed and out of it. But the fact is I can’t have him. What could someone like that—attractive, confident, and clearly wealthy—want with someone like me? A twenty-one-year-old college dropout who has no idea what she wants to do with her life.
“Get a grip, Savannah,” I tell myself, refusing to wallow in self-pity any longer. This is my new start. A new city, an apartment of my own, a job with a salary bigger than any other wage I’ve ever had. “You can do this.”