Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
"Crue," I whisper, not sure what I'm trying to ask him. For more? For him to get me in his room before I combust? I have no idea. But as soon as I say his name, he growls, dragging his mouth from mine.
"Fuck," he groans, burying his face in my hair. "You can't do that in public. I have no self-control around you."
"I didn't do anything," I mumble. "You're the one who kissed me."
"You just told me you plan to own my ass. You're damn right I kissed you," he growls, brushing my hair aside to press his lips to my throat. "Don't say sexy shit like that if you don't want me fucking you up against the door next time, Éire."
"I'm not doing it for the first time against a door."
He freezes, pulling back slowly to look at me. "What'd you say, baby?"
"What?" Oh. Crap.
"What did you just say?"
"N-nothin'," I lie, peeking around. "Did you hear something? Maybe you heard the neighbors. I bet the walls are paper thin here."
"Ireland." His lips twitch. "As fucking cute as you're being right now, I need you to be serious, sweet girl. Are you a virgin?"
"I'm not having this conversation in the hall of a hotel," I hiss, my cheeks burning hot.
He eyes me for a moment and then shifts me forward an inch. A second later, the door clicks open behind me. Before I can even more, he's shuffling me through it. It slams behind him, and then I'm pressed up against it, my laptop bag still dangling from his arm.
"Now," he says, "we're not in the hall. Tell me the truth. Are you a virgin?"
"Yes." I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. "And I'm not ashamed of it either." I'm not…exactly. I'm just tired of being judged for it. In a world where we're now allowed to be as sexual as we want with no judgements, sometimes, it feels as if we're not allowed to make a different decision for ourselves. We can have all the sex we want, but as soon as we decide that we want to wait for the right one, everyone has something to say about it. They assume we're either crazy, religious, or just naïve.
I'm none of those things. Well, I mean I'm a little crazy. And maybe a little naïve. But I believe in romance and soulmates. I want my first time to mean something. Most of my friends who had sex in high school or college didn't last through the end of the year with their partners. I made a different choice for myself, and I don't regret it.
"Good girl." He brushes his lips against mine in a sweet kiss and then runs a single finger down the center of my body, all the way to my hips. His gaze tangles with mine as he cups my sex through my dress.
I gasp, caught between the urge to squeeze my thighs together and trap his hand…and the urge to beg him to slip my panties aside and touch me. For the love of all that's holy, just touch me.
"You've taken good care of my pussy for me," he says, his voice like sandpaper. "But it's mine to take care of now, Ireland."
"I…" I have no idea how to respond to that, so I simply nod.
He rewards me with another of those panty-melting grins before slipping his hand from between my legs. "Come on, baby. Let's get this fucking interview out of the way so we can get to the important shit."
"W-wh…" I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. "What important stuff?"
"For every question you ask me now, I get to ask one of my own later," he says, smirking like the devil.
"That…is not how this works, Crue."
"It is now, Éire. It is now."
Chapter Three
Crue
"Whoa," Ireland says, glancing around my room. It's not much, but it comes with a sitting area, a table, a king bed, and a balcony. "Your room is way bigger than mine." Her nose scrunches up. "Neater too." She practically skips to the closet, pulling it open. "Why am I not surprised that your clothes are hanging up?"
"Yours aren't?"
"Uh, no." She turns to look at me like I've lost my mind. "Mine are all over the place like they should be in a hotel room."
I grin, leaning against the wall. "So what you're saying is you're a mess when you travel."
"Obviously." She pushes the closet closed before moving on to the minifridge. She doesn't ask for permission before she starts prowling through it. "No wonder you look like you do," she mumbles. "You live on junk."
"Fruit, protein shakes, and water is not junk," I protest with a laugh. "It's healthy."
"Exactly. Junk," she sniffs, closing the fridge before turning to face me. "Your room is boring, Crue. There aren't even any skeletons in the closet or six packs in the fridge."