Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Brady!” The one with the bright-yellow tank top that’s tied just below her bra line beams, jogging over with what feels like very intentional movements, being she’s only about ten feet from me. “Help me with the big red one?” She sticks her lip out in a pout, and I wonder if I’d find that sexy if it were a Friday night.
A loud, familiar laugh reaches my ears, and I whip around, seeking the source.
“Oh, thank fuck,” I mutter, slipping away from the girls around me and meeting Cameron where she stands a few feet away.
She looks me over, her smile growing, so I give her a little show.
Doing my best stripper hip roll, I make the straw skirt around my waist crunch and move, and run my palms down my ribs in tune with the girly music blasting across the parking lot.
Cameron laughs harder and I join in, lifting her off the ground and spinning her before lowering her back to her feet.
Her eyes trail over the parking lot before landing back on mine. “So sorority car wash, huh?”
“Yep.”
She nods, smirking a bit. “So, like, am I playing the jealous-girlfriend role? Do I make a scene and get mad that you’re here with all these girls and I had no idea, stomp off, and force you to chase after me?”
My brows crash together, horror stricken. “You crazy? Some of these girls have had to hear the rumor that I’m someone’s boyfriend now. Do that and they’ll take it as us splitting up, and it will be worse. No, no. I need a partner in crime here, Cammie.”
She chuckles, nodding her head. “All right, so what do you want me to do? And why aren’t they in bathing suits if they’re having a car wash? Every girl knows jean shorts get baggy once they’re wet.”
I shrug. “Something about not wanting half-naked women out here to scare off store customers. Not sure they’ve realized all the girls have their shirts up to their bellies yet.”
“So how is it you’re allowed to be out here shirtless?”
“’Cause I’m Brady Lancaster, Cammie Baby,” I tease, and when she only lifts a brow, a laugh leaves me. “The owner has season tickets to our games. He saw me here and asked for an autograph for his kid.”
She shakes her head with a grin. “Of course he did.”
“Brady, come back!”
“Yeah, Brady, help me with the hood?”
“Wait, I asked for his help first!”
When we both glance that way, Yellow Top asks, “You’ll lift me on your shoulders, right? I have really flexible legs.”
Cameron coughs to hide a laugh and I look back at her with pleading, puppy-dog eyes.
She stares a moment, trying to figure her plan out, and I wait, praying it’s a good one.
I take her hand and tug her in closer. “So what’s the move, fake girlfriend?”
Cameron winks, then steps back, tearing her shirt over her head, revealing a skintight, light pink sports bra with a little zipper in the middle that’s halfway down, and teeny tiny…
Hold up.
“Yo.” I crowd her, take her shirt, and wrap it around her back, hiding her booty from view. “Are those underwear?!”
“No,” she chuckles, gently shoving at my chest.
But my feet are planted firmly, and I don’t budge, cocking my head and stretching my neck to get a better look. “You sure?” I stare at the spot they stretch around her toned thighs, literally right at the edge of her booty.
And girl’s got a booty. Ever since she and Ari did that Booty Bootcamp thing, whatever the fuck that is, it’s been poppin’. She’s most definitely kept up the routine. It’s high and round, and I’ve got the sudden urge to give it a little tap. Maybe a squeeze or two, you know, just to see how soft it is.
I glare harder at the offending underwear. “Pretty sure when your leg stretches to take a step, them things are gonna slide up and out will plop a cheek.”
Her laugh is loud, and she gives me a saucy grin.
My brow raises and she pushes up on her toes, tongue flicking across my lips, and there’s a little twitch in my toes.
A frown threatens to form, but then a shadow falls over us, and we both look left.
The girl flicks her eyes at Cameron, then turns them back to me, batting her long lashes. “Come on, number ninety-eight,” the brunette singsongs. “We need our big, strong mountain man’s help.”
Cameron’s hands, still on my chest from attempting to push me back, span out, and she runs them slowly and steadily down my abs, making my muscles twitch at the feeling. She looks to me, but her words are for the interrupter. “He’s not your anything.” She holds my gaze steady. “He’s mine.”
My feet shuffle closer on their own, but she’s already pulling back, smiling wide at the sorority girl.