Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
He brought the fish to me, and I held my hands out to grab it. The moment I did, I instantly dropped it from the slimy feeling of the touch. The fish fell to the floor of the boat and started flopping around like a wild beast, making me flop around like a wild beast. I jumped up and down before landing on the chair cushion, shouting like wild. “Floppy fish! Floppy fish!” I screamed, pointing as if the fish were on a mission to attack me when, in reality, I was the one who dropped said fish.
“What are you doing?” Theo laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It’s so slimy!”
“Well, it’s a fish, Willow. Of course it’s slimy,” he said, picking it up. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you. Here, let me take a selfie with you as I hold it.”
I climbed off the seat and took a picture with Theo and Mr. Slimeball before Theo tossed the fish back into the water.
Theo wiped his hands on the side of his pants before nudging me in the arm. “You just caught a five-pound bass.”
I smirked and shoved him back. “I just caught a five-pound bass.”
“Hell yeah, you did,” he replied, shoving me back.
“Hell yeah, I did,” I echoed his words with a shove.
Another shove from Theo. “Little fisherwoman.”
“Like a Little Debbie snack cake, but just not as sweet,” I joked, shoving him again.
“You’re just as sweet,” he softly said. Only this time, instead of shoving me, his hand caught my arm, and he held it gently. His eyes fell to our touch, and mine did the same. The warmth of his fingers shot throughout my body. Up my spine, down my spine.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Willow,” Theo expressed, his voice deep and controlled. He said it again—the thing that caused me a massive number of butterflies. This time, he added the word fucking, which gave it an extra bit of flair. I didn’t remove my arm from his hold. Instead, I used it to pull him a little closer, still staring down at his touch.
“How proud?” I whispered.
He inched me closer. “So fucking proud,” he replied.
As I tilted my head up, I met his stare. He hovered over me, but I felt the safest I’d felt in a long time. “Yeah?” I asked, moving in closer, so close that if I wanted to, I could rest my hands against his chest.
He pulled me closer and tilted my head up even more with his free hand. “Yeah.” He paused for a moment as his stare moved to my lips.
I bit my bottom one softly. “Theo… I know we’re friends. I’m glad we’re friends, but I just think as friends we should be completely honest with one another. Don’t you think?”
His voice dropped lower, almost as if he growled slightly. “I do.”
“So I think it’s only fair to say I’m having some more-than-friendly thoughts right now.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “That is so.”
He pulled me closer, as close as I could get without living in his skin. My hands fell against his chest. His rock-hard chest. “And what exactly are you thinking?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m thinking about—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Theo wrapped his arms around me. His right hand cuffed my neck, and he pulled me in for a kiss. He kissed me deeply, passionately, as if he’d been thinking about that kiss for a long time. His tongue parted my lips as my hands were wrapped around his big, strong frame. My mind was spinning, the butterflies were doing the tango, and Theodore Langford had kissed me.
The wildest part of it all?
I kissed him back.
Oh, did I kiss him back. As my lips parted from the sweep of his tongue, my nails dug into the fabric of his shirt, trying their best to meet Theo’s skin. I wanted to feel him—all of him—more than I’d ever wanted anything else. He felt like warmth, safety, and protection all wrapped up into one soul. He felt present. He felt right. He felt like he was mine.
Did he feel it, too?
As if the meaning of life was discovered for the first time ever?
Me: Why am I here, God?
God: To kiss Theodore Langford, duh, girl.
Why did he taste so good against my mouth? Why did I want to kiss him forever as we rolled into always? Why did he have to show me what kissing could’ve been and how warm and safe it could’ve felt? Why did he have to prove that every kiss I had before him was only the opening act, and he—him—Theo—was the main show? My whole body shivered from his touches, the roaming of his hands as they slightly brushed against my ass in his sweats.
His sweats.
I was wearing his clothes while he was wearing my lips.
Every inch of me quivered from his entire being.