Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
“Jesus Christ.” I scrub a hand down my face. “This is fucked.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
“I thought she had a boyfriend.”
“Took care of him.”
“Took care of him how?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
“He breathin’?”
“So far.”
“Fuck.” Sighing, I tunnel my fingers through my hair. “Okay, look, just… I need to tell you something, yeah? But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know for sure. So just… don’t do anything else that’s fucked. Not until I get back to the ranch.”
Because I don’t think the girl he’s fallen for is the best friend at all. I think Peyton Turner’s best friend is sleeping right in front of me.
To: Bo Porter
From: Peyton Turner
Dear Bo,
You’re right. This is a bad idea. This isn’t how I usually live my life. If my best friend were doing this, I’d tell her to stop. I’d tell her to open her eyes and come back to reality. Because all of this seems like a dream.
A daydream.
This only happens in my books and books usually have a happy ending. Unlike life. You could very well have nefarious intentions. You probably had them all along. Maybe this was all a ploy to lure me in. So you could either ask me to send you money in the next letter or to run drugs for you to your buddies. But I don’t think that’s your plan.
First, I don’t have any money; I’m a college student and you already know that. And if me running drugs for you was your ultimate goal then reading pages and pages about my mundane life for months is just too high a price to pay. Plus in order for me to run drugs to your friends, I kinda need to know who your friends are.
And I don’t.
You never tell me.
Now that I think about it, I hardly know anything about you. Anything personal, that is. Except your crime and your name. Oh and that you’re a cowboy with a deep love for the horses. Which could be in itself a point against you but I think I’m going to take my chances with you.
Besides, if I didn’t, you’d never know that some of what you imagine is right. I do smell like flowers. But it’s my perfume. I borrowed it from my best friend years ago and loved it so much that I’ve been using it ever since. My hair’s long and thick and yes, I usually have it up in a bun or a ponytail. Mostly because I find my hair annoying and it’s always in the way. And as for the nape of my neck, I have to admit that I never thought about it a lot. What it felt like or looked like. I never thought anyone would be interested. But I touched it for you. I ran my fingers over my pulse and I think you may be right. The nape of my neck is soft and warm. Most of all though, it’s ready.
For a roughened con to touch me with his rough fingers.
For you.
You said that you want soft things but I’ve lived my entire life being all soft and docile. So my hunger runs for hard things. Things with sharp edges. Things that bruise and bite.
I think your fingers could do that, grip me, grab me, wrap my long hair like rope around your wrist. I think your fingers could leave their mark on me and so to answer the question you didn’t ask: I want your hands on me, rough and strong. Rough and strong, when it comes to you, doesn’t scare me as much. Which is a surprise because of how my daddy was but yeah.
What I’m afraid of is that I don’t want you to stop there.
I don’t want you to just put your hands on me. I want something else too.
I want your mouth.
I think your mouth will be soft. It will be just as soft as the rest of your body is hard. In fact, your mouth will be so soft that I’ll wonder how a man so hard can have a mouth so plush and hot and oh so wet. But then you’ll show me. You’ll show that it’s not about the texture of your mouth; it’s about how you use it.
You already know that I’ve never been kissed. Not once in my life. Which means I’ve imagined my first kiss about a million times by now even though I pretend that I haven’t. And every time I’ve imagined it, I’ve imagined it to be demanding and passionate. Possessive and owning. And I think that’s how you’ll use your mouth on me. Even when you’re going slow, it’ll feel like you’re going fast. And when you’re going fast, it’ll still feel like you’re being thorough.
What I’m really afraid of is that you won’t want to.
Kiss me, I mean. Because I’ve never been kissed before and there’s a reason for that. A very good reason and some days I think why should you be any different? Why should you look at me differently than the rest of them?