Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Cash continues, obliviously. “You sure you don’t want to go to the gym, Skaggs? Blow off some steam? You look like you’re about to bite someone’s head off.”
Turner inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. “I said I’m good.”
“Bruh, that’s your problem.” Our roommate leans forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re too good. Too pent-up. I’m only suggesting you take care of that. A guy’s got needs and from the looks of you, I’d say it’s been a while.”
Turner stands, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor, and finally, finally, his eyes meet mine.
“Going to hit the shower,” he mutters, and then he’s gone, disappearing down the hall without another word. “Then I’m running errands.”
Cash makes a hissing sound low in his throat. “What crawled up his ass?”
“Beats me,” I say, even though I know exactly what’s up his ass. Me. Last night.
And the fact that I can’t tell if it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him or the worst.
“Man, what a grump,” he goes on. “I swear, it’s like he’s on his period.”
I roll my eyes. “Must be.”
This guy is beyond.
“Seriously, though.” Cash sets his bowl down with a clatter, leaning back and draping one arm over the back of his chair. “Skaggs is usually the chillest guy in this place. Wonder what his fucking problem is.”
Me.
I’m the problem, it’s me.
I force a laugh. “Maybe he didn’t sleep well. It was rough going after I barged into his room.”
“Or. Maybe he needs to get laid.” He tips his head back, eyeballing me. “Thank god for Paige, man. Woke up this morning with her mouth on me and thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
My stomach twists.
I take another too-big gulp of orange juice to keep from visibly gagging.
Cash opens one eye, peering at me. “You okay, Poppy? You don’t look so great either.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah?” Cash’s grin widens. “Cause if you’re feeling neglected, I can set you up, if you catch my drift.”
I have no idea if he’s talking about sex, or drugs, or both.
“No—but thanks.”
“Or you could, you know—take care of it yourself.”
The air feels too heavy. I push away from the counter, moving to rinse my glass in the sink, the cool water rushing over my fingers.
“I said I’m fine, Cash.”
“Okay, okay.” Cash rolls his eyes, pushing off the counter and stretching his arms over his head, his shirt riding up to expose a strip of skin and a line of dark hair trailing down beneath his waistband. “Jeez. Everyone is so uptight around here.”
He grabs his keys off the counter and makes his way to the door, pausing to shoot me one last grin.
“I’m hitting the gym. Maybe when I get back, you two will have chilled the fuck out.”
Highly.
Doubt.
That.
The door slams behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening. The only sound left is the rush of the water down the hall—the shower still running.
Turner’s in there.
Naked.
Wet.
And all I can think about is how his voice sounded last night when he whispered good night in my ear.
My stomach twists, a knot of anxiety and longing and complete and utter confusion.
What do I do now?
My stomach growls. Food.
I need food. It will distract me from the fact that Turner is currently naked and wet, with steam curling around his body and water dripping down all those muscles I’ve definitely never thought about licking.
I yank open the cabinet and grab the first box I see. Cheerios.
Perfect.
Dry, boring, perfectly unsexy Cheerios.
I dump a handful into a bowl, staring blankly at the little O’s as they bounce around, the sound like teeny, tiny, mocking laughs.
O…O…no.
You’re a horny mess!
I shove a handful into my mouth, chewing aggressively like that’s going to muffle the image of Turner. Nope, stop it. Knock it off.
I pick a dry morsel out of the bowl and study it. “Wow, look at all these O’s. Round. Perfectly symmetrical.”
I toss another handful of O’s into my mouth, chewing like a lunatic, trying to crunch the dirty thoughts away. But the O’s just turn to mush, and now it’s like I’m swallowing wet cardboard.
Then my sensitive ears hear the water shut off; my entire body tenses.
Several minutes later, footsteps.
Heavy. Slow. And then, the creak of the bathroom door opening.
I turn around as Turner emerges, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water clinging to his chest, his hair wet and tousled. He stops short when he sees me, his eyes going wide, dark, and unreadable.
For a second, neither of us speaks. The air between us is thick, heavy, charged. Then he clears his throat, dragging a hand through his wet hair.
Drip…drip…drip…
“Did Cash leave?”
“Yes. Just now,” I say, my voice coming out small and strained. “Went to the gym.”
Turner nods, his gaze drifting to the floor, then back to me. “Good.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because what the hell am I supposed to say? Hey, Turner, remember last night when I had your dick in my mouth? Are we cool? JK that was a dream?