Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
She's changed clothes since I was here this afternoon. Then, she was in jeans and a T-shirt that said something about spreading pages. I don't know. I was more focused on how hard her nipples were behind the words than on the words themselves.
She isn't wearing a T-shirt now. Instead, she's in a slinky red dress that hugs her curves, showing off more skin than should be legal. Every inch of her golden skin glows in a way that has my dick wedged against my zipper. Her hair is all soft and curly around her face. And I don't know what she did with her makeup, but she looks like both a siren and an angel at the same damn time, with pouty red lips, smoky eyes, and pink cheeks.
"You're early," she says, giving me a nervous smile.
"Couldn't wait," I growl, stomping across the space separating us. I want to haul her into my arms and kiss her lipstick off, but I promised to be on my best behavior. I suppose I should actually try to follow through, right? Goddammit. I wrote my own death sentence here.
A soft laugh whispers from her lips, tightening my balls. "That hungry, huh?"
"Starving." And I don't want food.
I reach for her hand, drawing her out from behind the counter. Christ Almighty. If those heels aren't leaving imprints in my back tonight, I may actually commit crimes against humanity.
Her gaze drifts down my body, her expression full of humor. "I would say you clean up nice, but I'm not actually sure you own anything other than fancy suits," she teases. "Do you?"
"Probably not," I admit, spinning her in a circle. "You look ravishing."
"Surprised?"
"Full of regret."
She shoots me a questioning look.
"I'm taking you out in public, and other men are going to look at you. I'm regretting my choice already, Lilah. I'd rather keep you all to myself."
"Too bad." She smirks at me, her expression soft. "You promised to feed me."
"And don't keep her out too long!" someone shouts from the back. "I know where you work!"
"Worry about yourself, Jazz!" Lilah shouts back, shaking her head before she meets my gaze.
"I'm not the one having dinner with the devil!" Jazz yells, making me chuckle. "I told you to sleep with him, not date him!"
Lilah just shrugs and grins when I look at her, as if she isn't the least bit sorry that her friend thinks I'm the devil. The little minx probably isn't sorry. She doesn't trust me. Clearly, her friend doesn't either. I have my work cut out for me here if I'm going to change their minds.
"Are you ready?" I ask.
"Yeah." Lilah leans over the counter, giving me a great view of her ass, and then straightens with a clutch in her hands. "I'm ready."
I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her out to the SUV. She shivers when I help her inside, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't speak at all until we're on the road, heading away from downtown.
"Where are we going?"
"I made reservations at the Goodson Co. restaurant."
"No way!" she cries immediately, staring at me in horror.
"Uh…"
"If we go there, my sister will find out. And if she finds out, she'll be planning my wedding by the time the night even ends." She looks mildly panicked at the thought. "I'm not wearing Spanx and a push-up bra, Lincoln. Absolutely not."
I chuckle in response, my heart thudding against my ribcage at the way she isn't panicked at the thought of marrying me, but of wearing Spanx and a push-up bra. Maybe I'm reading into it, but she can't hate me that much if the worst thing she can think of is the Spanx and the bra, not being tied to me, right? Right.
Maybe I stand a chance, after all.
"Fine. We'll skip our reservations to spare you from the Spanx, which you absolutely don't need, by the way. You're fucking gorgeous."
She actually blushes, her gaze darting from mine. "Thanks," she whispers.
"I mean it, Lilah. You're stunning."
Her gaze drifts back to mine, her eyes wide. "You aren't bad yourself."
I grin, pretty sure a begrudging compliment from her is tantamount to a ringing endorsement from anyone else. "Where do you want to go instead?"
She thinks about it for a moment and then grins at me. "Have you ever been to Moe's?"
"No, I can't say that I have."
"Good. We'll go there. Take a left up ahead."
I follow her instructions, navigating through Santa Maria until we pull into the parking lot of an old diner that looks like it was plucked out of the 1950s and plopped right in the middle of town. I can practically smell the grease from here.
"It's the best diner in the state. You're going to hate it," she says cheerfully, as if the thought pleases her.
I could tell her that I grew up dirt poor, surviving on boxed dinners and cereal, and that this isn't the first time I've eaten at a place like this, but I don't. I let her revel in the thought of tormenting me a little as I hop out, circling around to help her out.