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)
“What’s he supposed to be, Hugh Hefner?” Chase wonders.
My eyes fall to the velvety robe he’s got on, and I throw my head back and laugh.
Oh, Cammie Girl. Fucking hilarious. At least I know they won’t match. Ain’t no way is she showing up with bunny ears on.
“Let me guess.” Chase studies me. “Another inside joke?”
“You heard from the girls yet?” I ignore his question, looking around to avoid his grin.
“Nah, I talked to Mason though, and he said he’s walking them over, but they had to wait for his parents to get back with food first. Guess they didn’t feel like eating at the game.”
I nod, settling into one of the chairs.
I’m on my second beer when Mason walks out and everyone around laughs.
He grins good-naturedly, sticking his hand out and shooting silly string all over with a laugh.
“Fucking Spidey!”
He gives a full spin, wearing a tight-as-shit onesie.
“Holy shit, bro, you actually wore it!”
“Dude, Deaton picked it out. What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”
I chuckle. Poor guy’s got no chance when it comes to that little man. “Hope you’re wearing a cup, my boy, or else everyone here is gonna know what you’re packing in there. What’s your woman gonna say about that?”
He frowns. “Don’t remind me about people seeing too much,” he mumbles. “Just…wait for it.”
Before I can question him, whistles and catcalls sound, and he huffs, but there’s a small smile on his lips.
Then the girls are sauntering through the door—first Payton, then Paige, and lastly mine.
I mean Cameron.
My brows jump, my jaw might drop, and what is this fire in my stomach?
Chase glares, suddenly really thirsty as he gulps down his drink, and I can’t even stalk forward like I planned, give her a little show of my own.
No, my eyes have locked on to the perfect pigtails Cameron’s sporting. They’re pinned up high, one solid, smooth curl spun in each, thin baby blue ribbons tied in bows holding them in place.
Her outfit is best described as shrink-wrap, a tiny strip of the same shade of blue bound around her chest. It’s only high enough to cover the swell of her breast, no longer than where the edge of a swimsuit would reach at the bottom, pressed tight against her ribs. Her toned stomach is glimmering, her sun-kissed skin having been rubbed in some sort of sparkly shit, the little flecks blinding as she moves and the fire bounces off her.
Her belly ring is a little ghost dangling, the tip of it teasing along her bottoms—and what the actual fuck, man?
I glare at her lower half. How is she even walking in that?
At first, I think she got the parts mixed up and the thin little strip covering her is meant to be the top…but the top is even smaller.
That little thing is not a skirt.
She does a cute little spin, and… Nope. Uh-uh.
I dart forward, my arm snaking around her waist from behind, and haul her to me.
She squeals, a giggly, girlie sound I’m not sure I’ve heard from her before but already want more of, and grips my arm, tipping her head a bit as I bury my face in her neck.
“What in the heaven’s little devil are you doing to me?” I ask.
“It’s the pigtails, isn’t it?”
“You mean these perfect handlebars on your head? No…”
She hits me with a grin over her shoulder, none of her earlier sadness to be found. “You wanna grab on, Boyfriend?”
“I want to cover you in my fur so no one can look at you.” No one but me.
“Call me Bubbles.”
“Bubbles?”
“Yeah, you know the Powerpuff Girls?” When I say nothing, she laughs, spinning around and freeing herself. “Did you not notice Payton’s red wig and Paige’s cute little black one?”
I look up, scanning the other girls’ outfits, that no, I did not notice when they came in. Looks like my eyes went straight to Cameron.
“Okay.” I nod. “But Payton’s actually covers some of her skin, and Paige…” I pause. All right, so she’s about as covered as Cameron is, but a frowning Chase is hovering awfully, obviously, close to her, even if he is pretending she doesn’t exist at the same time, so there’s that.
“Wait.” Cameron pushes off my chest, moving farther away, finally getting a good look at my outfit.
Her mouth drops open, her hand lifting to cover it as she laughs. Blue eyes wide and pleased, she stomps her boots in excitement—leather boots that go up past her knee, I might fucking add.
Her smile is infectious, intoxicating, and now it’s my turn to pose.
I make a fist, showing off the leather cuff things tight across my forearms, the fake metal clicking around my waist where my fake sword and knife hang. I’ve even got a temporary tattoo covering my entire shoulder on the side where the feldr, as the dude who sold it to me called it, lies. I call it a fucking furry shawl for men.