Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
When Shannon looks over at me, she raises her hands in the air, motioning for me to follow along. I mirror her moves and sway my hips back and forth to the music. We dance with each other, caught up in the techno beat cranking out from the speakers as the room spins.
Oh, fuck. I wish I’d eaten something, anything. A cracker would have been better than nothing. My stomach can’t handle alcohol without an ample amount of carbs beforehand. Last time I felt like shit, Drake drove me to McDonald’s before he…
Ugh, stop thinking about him.
The cute boy with hazel eyes and light-brown hair digs his fingers into my side. I lean my head on his shoulder to catch my breath. Shockingly, he’s tall enough for me to do this. Most guys are the same height as me if I’m lucky. We stay that way for the next two songs until my mind drifts out of consciousness.
When I close my eyes, he steps back, and I stumble, breaking my fall on a set of rock-hard abs. I try to escape when I see Drake and his muscular arms wrapped around me.
“You okay?” Drake whispers in my ear, his voice so deep and smooth it sends a shiver down my arms. “You don’t look so hot.”
I shake my head. “Thanks a lot, Drakey.”
Am I a bitch for using his mom’s nickname for him? Maybe. But I’m so mad at him I’m seeing double. Or is that because of the beer that’s gone to my head?
He grinds his teeth. “You look like you’re gonna be sick is all I meant. Otherwise, you look fucking hot.” His eyebrow curves up. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, allowing his hands to linger on my hips.
When I don’t stop him, he slides his massive hand up my stomach, covering most of my bare skin. I should tell him to go back to Stephanie, we’re in public, but I’m too sick and buzzed to care.
I like the feeling of his hands pressed against my skin. His usual clean linen and aftershave scent fills my nostrils. Somehow, he affects my hormones every time I smell him. It’s such a weird thing, and yet here I am taking a whiff of him.
“Are you mad?” he growls against the shell of my ear.
“Why would I be mad? You were just about to fuck those two whores.”
“C’mon, Taylor. You know that’s not true.”
I stir in his arms, but he pins me against his chest with one hand. “I thought we had an agreement.”
“I thought we did, too,” I counter.
“It’s just for appearances,” he challenges. “I didn’t touch either of them. I don’t want anyone but you. The night we spent together…” he sighs, “… it was the best night of my life. I want another one. But I don’t think one more night with you will be enough.”
My breath catches in my throat. How do I respond? I guess I overreacted. We had a deal he was following through on. The way he acted with those girls was just for show. I knew that.
“I don’t want to pretend,” I confess. “I wish we didn’t have to.”
“Who says we do?”
Rubbing my backside down the length of his thigh, I peek up at him. I want him so bad every bone in my body aches for him. My core is throbbing from the dark look he gives me in response to my dancing. His cock is so big and long I can feel it resting on his thigh. The more I dance for him, I feel him lengthen. Eventually, he’s so hard his cock pokes my ass cheek. Even through his jeans, I can feel all of him.
“Jesus, Taylor,” he says, smacking a kiss on my head. He holds me tight, using my body to cover his erection. “I can’t walk around like this, you know. Keep grinding on me like that, and I won’t have any choice but to throw you over my shoulder and take you up to my bedroom.”
“That was the point,” I quip.
And with that, his eyes flicker with acknowledgment. Before I know what’s happening, Drake is clutching my wrist and leading me upstairs. I notice Stephanie in the crowd with her cell phone raised in the air.
Fuck. What’s this bitch up to?
This looks bad.
We ascended two flights of stairs, passing people on our way to his bedroom. This looks even worse than what Stephanie probably shot on her camera phone. Luckily, everyone’s too busy making out against walls or standing in line for the bathroom to notice me trailing behind Drake. Or, at least, I hope they don’t.
Drake unlocks his bedroom door with a key and then moves me inside, locking the door behind him. A giant flat-screen television is hanging on the opposite wall from his oversized bed. It must be a California king, maybe even bigger.