Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I can handle it,” he bites out.
“You’re acting…different.”
Aside from the small tick of his jaw, he doesn’t react to my words. Just stares me down like an asshole. With the dumb baseball cap on, he looks like even more of a douchebag than from before. It makes me want to knock it off his head.
“I’ve had a bad day,” he says finally.
I flinch at his words that feel like a blow. In our classes, he seemed like he was having a great day. Was this because I rejected a ride home from him?
“Mine hasn’t been so great either,” I spit back, hoping to sting him with my venomous words.
His features soften and his lips quirk on one side. “Liar.”
The rumble of his voice as he says that one taunting word has me forgetting why I’m annoyed with him in the first place. He takes a step toward me but it’s hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters with me. I don’t budge. I’m not about to back away from him and have him thinking he has the upper hand here. The challenge in my stance must call to him because he continues his approach—no, his prowl—toward me until he’s so close I think I can feel the warmth of his chest against mine.
“You have a problem with personal space, Chevy.”
He darts his eyes back and forth. Earlier, they’d been the color of maple syrup, but with the late afternoon sun shining in through the windows and bathing his flawless features, they’re lighter. Like melted caramel. I’m in trouble if I keep associating sweet foods with this guy.
“Chevy?” he asks. “A play on my name?”
Oh, God. He’s a dumb jock who probably took one too many blows to the head on the football field or something.
“Forget it,” I mumble. “I’m serious about what I said. You better not be using Della to get to me. Because if you are, that’s really freaking creepy, Ford. First stalking me in my classes and now this?”
“Stalking you?” His lips twitch. “I literally just met you. Careful, if your head gets any bigger, honey, you’re going to have problems getting back through that door.”
I scoff at his words, ignoring the use of honey altogether. Has he graduated from Laundry to honey? Jesus, this guy moves fast.
“Maybe I should observe,” I threaten. “To make sure you’re not up to anything weird.”
“Now who’s the stalker?”
I poke his solid chest right in the center. “Whatever game you’re playing, I’m going to figure it out. I’m not some stupid heiress you can toy with.”
His hand lifts and he curls it around my wrist. The grip on it tightens, but not to the point of pain. Possessive, maybe.
“If I were playing a game, you’d be powerless to stop it.” His smug grin is nauseating. “You’d lose, honey.”
Again with the honey.
“Remember,” I bite back, jerking from his grip. “I’m on a first name basis with your balls.”
“You’ve met my balls?”
My God he’s an idiot. I snag a pencil off the desk nearest to me and swing my hand up. The moment the tip presses against him through his denim, he stills, his face paling.
“What the fuck, woman?”
“Clearly you needed reminding.”
He studies me for a long beat before nodding his acquiescence. “I promise to be a good boy. Happy?”
Despite having a pencil pointed at his balls, he smiles. The kind of smile that starts small but increases with power the more it grows. Kind of like the sun rising above the horizon. A small ray of light and then it becomes warm, blanketing every inch of your skin and soaking into your bones. Certainly a smile he’s never shown me until now.
I hate that I like it. A lot.
The warmth that radiates from him burns my skin, especially at my cheeks. It’s annoying that he’ll be able to see how he affects me. Based on the growing radiance of his grin, he knows.
“Happy?” I grumble, stepping back and no longer aiming at his balls. “Not sure I even know what that means.”
The truth I’ve just blurted out tastes bitter on my tongue. This smiling, gorgeous douchebag gets a front row seat to my ugly truth. Lovely.
He lifts a hand and I freeze, wondering what he plans on doing to me. Shock jolts through me when his finger hooks under my chin and gently lifts until his eyes are boring into mine. My heart stutters and then stalls altogether when he leans in.
Is he going to kiss me?
Am I going to let him?
“You can trust me,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my face. “Promise.”
I’ve never wanted to believe a lie so badly in my entire life. His whispered, tender words tease me into a false sense of security, but underneath, something hides. I can sense it with Ford. Beneath what he allows me to see, darkness lurks.