Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Jesus, your feet are freezing.”
I chuckle and then let out a little moan when he digs his thumb into the arch of my foot.
“Oh God, that feels good.”
He’s gone still and quiet, and when I open my eyes he’s frowning at me.
“What?”
“Are you doing all of this on purpose?”
“All of what?”
He continues rubbing my foot, and I whimper, and he points at me.
“That. Right there. The sexy little noises and walking around with hardly anything on. Being naked when I came to your door.”
“First of all, I’m not psychic, so I didn’t know you were on the other side of that door. Second, I’m fully clothed.”
His eyes narrow.
“And third, you’re doing amazing things to my foot. How am I supposed to not make any noise? That’s like asking me not to breathe.”
“So you’re noisy. That’s what you’re saying.”
I smirk and lean back, enjoying how damn good it feels to be all snuggled up in this blanket with Xander rubbing my foot, and allow myself to feel a little smug.
“Tell me about high school,” he says softly. “Because it’s killing me that I don’t remember.”
I swallow hard, all the smugness gone. “It kills me, too, honestly.”
“I’m sorry.”
I open one eye and see him frowning down at my foot.
“It’s okay.”
He turns his gaze to me. “Tell me.”
“Well, it was kind of humiliating to live it the first time, and now you want me to relive it all over again?”
“Yes.”
I bark out a laugh, and he smiles at me.
“Fine. But only if you keep rubbing my feet.”
He pushes his fingers up around my heel and into my calf muscles, and I swear to God, this might be better than sex.
“Jesus Christ, Xander.”
“You can’t make those noises and expect me to let you stay clothed, Red. Tell me about high school.”
I lick my lips.
“It sucked. For me, not for you. You were the jock and you’re funny, and all of the girls adored you. The boys wanted to be you. It was almost annoying, except you’re so nice.”
He laughs at that and keeps rubbing my calf.
“I was the opposite. Nerdy, quiet. I kept to myself and was kind of a wallflower. And I didn’t mind. I’ve never really liked to be the center of attention. But I think that bullies like to hunt for the quiet kids and then humiliate them.”
He stops rubbing and scowls at me. “What the fuck?”
“I told you, this isn’t a great story for me. But you were always nice to me. You saved me from bullies more times than I can count. Thanks to you, I was only shoved in a locker once, when you weren’t around to save me.”
He doesn’t crack a smile at my joke.
“You would tell the assholes to leave me alone. That’s all.” Except, that meant everything to me. “It’s not like you flirted with me or anything like that. And you definitely wouldn’t have because, like I said, we were so vastly different. But it was nice to have just one person treat me like a human being, you know?”
He moves to the other foot and gives it the same attention.
“I want to remember it,” he admits. “I’d love to remember what you were like as a teenager.”
“No, you don’t. I was awkward, with thick glasses and braces and curves in all the wrong places thanks to a really horrible transition through puberty.”
“That’s not who you are at all now,” he says.
“Thanks to contacts and growing into my adult body, you’re right. I hit my stride after high school.” I grin. “And now I know that the reason you don’t remember is because of injuries, not because—”
I bite my lip, and he lets go of my foot and pulls me up against him.
“I want to lie on top of you, but you’ll yell at me for it.”
“Too much strain on the knee,” I agree, but my voice is breathy now. Because his gaze his hot and intense and holy shit.
“I hate that I can’t remember because I do recall the hurt on your perfect face at the bar that night when I used the wrong name when I spoke to you, and it kills me that I made you feel any kind of way for even a heartbeat when you absolutely don’t deserve that.”
He drags his knuckles down my cheek, and I feel like purring again.
And then, his mouth is on mine, and I can’t think at all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
XANDER
Jesus H. Christ, her little noises are going to be the fucking death of me. Ivy whimpers as I cup her sweet face and jawline and ghost my thumb over those freckles. God, she smells good, and her skin is so goddamn soft I never want to take my hands off her. I lick over her plump bottom lip, then pull it between my teeth, and . . .