Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
My stomach rumbles at the thought of food. “Yeah.” I nod. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
He’s moving around the kitchen like he lives here, and it makes me wonder how many times he’s been in my house that I’m not aware of.
“Did you sleep with me in my bed last night?” I wonder. After I got home, parts are blurry.
“Nope. I didn’t go to sleep,” he answers, turning to place a plate in front of me, along with a knife and fork. Pancakes stacked five high. He then sets out the butter, peanut butter, and syrup.
“Thank you,” I say and inhale the scent. “It smells amazing.”
“Of course.” He leans down and kisses my forehead.
It makes me pause. He’s playing house. Like we’re a married couple and this is a common occurrence.
“Eat up, Eve.” Turning, he goes over to my cabinets, pulls out my Advil, and then places two by my plate before giving me a glass of orange juice.
I pick them up and toss them into my mouth as I drink half the glass. I’m so thirsty, and I want this headache to go away.
“Bill’s reception is this weekend.”
His words have me glancing up at him. The way he said it makes me think he knows something that I don’t. “And?”
“I’m assuming you’re going.”
Sin and Elli were at our family dinner, and he’s close to Sin. So I know he’s aware that Bill is my father. The question is, how much does he know? “I am.”
He pulls a seat out, sits down, and reaches across the table to take my hand. He slowly rubs his thumb over my knuckles, and my pulse races. His eyes search mine when he asks. “Will you be my date?”
I swallow nervously. A date? I’ve never been on one of those before. A woman like me isn’t seen out in public with a man like Kashton. Any man, for that matter. “I can’t.” I pull my hand from his and stand, grabbing my untouched plate.
“Can’t or won’t?” he questions, following me to the sink.
I keep my back to him, bowing my head and closing my eyes. If he’s going, then that means his brothers are going as well. I’m not ready to see them. Or Ashtyn. Not like she’ll notice me or anything. But I’ll know, and I’m just not ready.
He grabs my hips and spins me around. His hands come to my face, and he holds it in place, forcing me to look at him. “I’m going to pick you up at five—”
“Kashton,” I protest. “We shouldn’t.”
“What are you hiding, Eve?”
My heart races. “Nothing.” I try to pull away, but he has my back against the counter.
“Prove it,” he challenges me.
My breathing picks up, and I try to think of a lie, but I have nothing. He’s got me flustered. Or maybe it’s the pounding headache. Gavin could be right, and I have a concussion. It’s messing with me. Making me crazy.
“Prove to me that you have nothing to hide and be my date.” His hands fall from my face and slowly glide down my shirt until he reaches the hem. He grabs a hold of the material and pulls it up.
I lift my arms on instinct to allow him to remove it. Tossing it to the side, I stand naked in front of him while he’s dressed.
My heart hammers in my chest, and my knees start to shake as his eyes take in my body. My skin heats up, and I feel lightheaded.
His hands come back to my face, and his eyes meet mine before he leans into me. My eyelids fall closed when our lips touch. I let him take my breath away as he kisses me—deep and passionately.
I push my body into him, letting my hands fall to his jeans. I begin to unbuckle his belt, but his hands grip my wrists, stopping me. He pulls his lips from mine, and I open my heavy eyes. “Come on.” He pulls me away and back to my bedroom.
We enter my bathroom, and he starts running the tub. “What are you doing?” I thought he was going to fuck me.
“I’m going to play with you,” he answers, popping open the bubbles and pouring some into the water.
That excitement returns, but my eyes drop to the water. “In the bathtub?” I ask, taking a step back.
He turns to face me, kisses my forehead, and ignores my question. “I’ll be right back.” Then he exits the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I begin to pace, nibbling on my nails. I’m a functioning alcoholic. I don’t go to group therapy like Bill and Adam have both suggested, but I do know I have a problem.
The only thing is, I have lived alone for the better part of the past six years, so I don’t have to hide alcohol from anyone. And there’s no way Kashton is going to allow me to drink this early.