Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
“This way.” I turn my eyes back to my store and start leading the way. In the few minutes we spent in the cold, a layer of snow has formed on the ground and crunches under our feet.
At least I’ll have company tonight, for whatever it’s worth.
Might make riding out the storm a little bit easier.
3
SALVATORE
Asingle look at this blonde bombshell is sweet vindication for running off into the night. She called to me from the instant I set eyes on her. Spoke to something buried deep inside an icy prison inside my soul, and her smile stokes the flames to thaw it.
I fucking hate metaphors, but this storm, this diner, and this beautiful woman make me wonder if I’m living in one.
“Salvatore,” I introduce myself before she finishes latching the front door. If she isn’t wary of me, she ought to be. Though I have no ill intentions toward her, I’m a gigantic stranger she found in his car on a pitch-black, stormy night.
Maybe my name will give her the comfort and reprieve that I’m not a monster.
“Silver.” She looks at me over her shoulder as she slides the final looped lock into place.
Silver. Like her eyes. Magnificent.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I’m not at a loss for words. Mindless platitudes come easy to a man like me. But if I had to say anything of substance, I’d be stumbling over every sentence trying to talk to her.
“Is that the best you can come up with?” Silver discards her jacket on the coat rack before crossing her arms underneath her ample bosom. The motion raises her tits enough for the slightest bit of cleavage to squeeze its way to the top of her shirt, and I have to fight off my urges to gawk.
Christ. Pull it together.
Spending time with a beautiful woman isn’t new to me. It comes with the territory. So why is this one so different?
I can’t get a grip on myself, let alone the next foolish thing that’s going to slip through my mouth if I’m not careful. She has my mind in a tailspin, and every direction it lands in is either some vile play on words to elicit a smile or some cheesy compliment I’d usually not dare let slip.
Interesting.
“Taking it slow. Testing the waters,” I admit.
“For what?” She rolls her eyes and starts walking toward me.
My heart starts thumping in my chest. Every step closer shortens my breathing until I’m practically holding it in full. My mind races with the possibilities of what might come next. A lingering touch? The feeling of her cool hand against my feverish skin? Or, perhaps what I might be able to handle, a jab at the fact that my cock is so stiff I’m tenting the front of my trousers.
“To gauge the atmosphere. Kindness is in rare supply where I’m from, and I don't take anything for granted.” I empty my pockets onto the counter next to me. Another vain attempt at showing Silver I’m not a threat.
My phone buzzes and hasn’t stopped since Dante’s first call. If I didn’t answer it then, there’s no chance I will do it now.
“Well, you’re in luck. You’re my good deed for the year. Saved it for the holiday season so Santa can bring me a present.” Accompanying her ever-growing smile is a cheeky wink. It makes my manhood rattle so violently, I have to shove my hand into my pocket and grab it by the base to still the motion.
“Why would you want a present from that guy?” The thoughts that crossed my mind about her approach are instantly dashed as she passes by me and finds her place behind the diner counter. “He’s a bit of a creep if you ask me. Always going on about hoe, hoe, hoes.”
Silver giggles and rolls her eyes. “I’m glad you’re funny. Getting through the night would’ve been a lot worse if you were some stick in the mud.”
“For better or worse, a stick in the mud, I’m not.” Careful, Sal. Don’t give too much away. You don’t want to scare this pretty little thing off.
“Then what are you?” She leans forward on the counter, and once more, the snow-white curves of her breasts peek through the top of her shirt. This time, no matter how I fight my urge, I can’t stop glancing down.
A moment of awkwardness, explaining how I’m staring down her shirt, is far better than trying to answer her question. Neither comes to pass. Instead of shying away, Silver pushes herself further forward as if she wants to give me something to look at. Rather than prying for an answer, she continues her sentence as if I wasn’t stalling.
“Hungry or thirsty?” she asks, adjusting a nob on the radio beside her until some late eighties pop starts playing. “Or both. I can boil a pot of coffee and fry up some steaks. Kitchen is stacked with goodies for the night.”