Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Cranking the engine, the Mustang purrs to life. It’s a sweet sound, similar but not as satisfying as Piper’s.
I heard Lydia leave, and she didn’t say goodbye. If she did, I didn’t hear her. It could be because I have my music turned up loud. I usually do unless I have someone here working with me. Guess I forgot she was here.
Crawling back under the car to tweak a few things, I don’t hear Piper come in, but I feel her before I see her black, sky-high boots, and what I assume are the same black jeans from earlier that hugged her lush, ripe peach shaped ass. Rolling out from under the Mustang, I look up at her. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and those almost pitch black eyes stare down at me with seriousness.
“Just sex,” she says, and I let a wicked smirk slide across my mouth. Her brows lift. Daring me. Testing me. Just waiting for a reason to bolt. “Nothing more.”
I don’t agree to her terms as I stand and head to the wash area. I make quick work of tearing off my shirt and kicking free of my jeans. She remains where she is as I walk to the shower room in the back of the building. After quickly washing and throwing on some clean clothes, I return to find her leaning against the car, her phone in hand, lost in her own world.
“Dinner,” I say, reaching for my car keys. She goes to argue, but I stop her with a finger to her lips. “Then I fuck you all night long. But first, I need fucking food.” Pulling away, I take her hand and drag her out, shutting the door behind me.
Opening the car door, Piper slides in, giving me her forever stoic expression.
I plan to make it crack tonight… in my bed.
Chapter Three
PIPER
When Joey dropped me off at home, I wasn’t planning on going to see Ezra. No, I told myself I would shower, chill, go to bed early, and forget everything that happened between me and him.
But as I walked into my apartment alone, loneliness struck me like an arrow, and I thought, what’s the harm? It’s not like I don’t know what he can do for me.
Desire erupts. A needy throb at the juncture of my thighs when the memory of his mouth and his hands pop into my mind—God, he knew exactly how to undo me.
So now here I sit, across from him, in some restaurant he’s dragged me to while I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the wetness of my panties as Ezra cuts into his steak once again and puts the fork to his mouth.
How can a man make such a simple move so seductive?
It’s unfair, really…
The game he plays with me.
The trance he can so easily cast on me.
“Do you plan to watch me eat the entire time?” he asks.
I look down at my steak. “I didn’t come for dinner,” I tell him.
“You ordered.”
“You did,” I correct him.
“We can take it to go if that’s what you prefer.”
I glance back up at him. “I’d prefer,” I reply.
He cuts another piece of steak, forks it into his mouth, and chews. All the while watching me.
“This makes you uncomfortable.” He waves his knife between us, then he proceeds to continue eating his food.
He isn’t wrong. My skin itches with tension, the air too thick to breathe. “Yes.”
“Why?” he pushes.
“You said we’d be fucking. That’s why I’m here.”
The corner of his lips lifts into that smirk. “Oh, we very much will be.” He nods and reaches for his water before lifting the glass to his lips and taking a long drink. I glance at his plate, and his steak is mostly consumed. “But I needed sustenance first.” Ezra waves the waitress over, and when she stops at the end of our table, he asks her for a to-go container for my food. “Will you eat it later?” he asks me. I look down at the food before me as the waitress brings over a container. I thank her, then scrape my meal into the box. Making sure nothing touches. I’m impressed it didn’t arrive at the table touching. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it does, and I can’t bring myself to eat it. That’s not the case tonight, though. Tonight is all about the anticipation of what comes next.
“Possibly. Depends on how much energy I use,” I say. “Though I did eat before I showed up at the shop.” I lie. When I look back at him, he pushes his dark hair, which is usually messy, with short waves out of his face. At the moment, it’s trimmed nicely around the edges, with the top a little longer.
It suits him.
“I knew you would come,” he says so matter-of-factly before standing, pushing in his chair, and stepping over to me. He offers me his hand, but I don’t take it. I rise without his assistance, then turn to face him. He’s tall, possibly six feet five compared to my five feet eight. I don’t consider myself short, but around him, I feel small.