Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“Sounds good,” he replies. “And Kaleb, let’s hold off on security for now. I don’t want to freak Sophie out.”
She’s not a little girl anymore, I almost say, but don’t.
Sitting across the street, I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, wondering which of these houses, if any, belongs to the woman who sent me a naked photo. I cringe at the idea of Sophie being the one to pick up a letter like that, not Paul.
Wait a second. How the hell did Paul get to it first? Did Sophie see it and bring it to him? Did it have my name on it? Hopefully, it was a one-off, and I don’t have to worry about my woman seeing that filth. The last thing I want is for her to believe I’d be interested in anybody else, even if it would make my life much easier.
Pushing the car door open, I walk across the street. With each step, I tell myself I’ll be better today: no more way-too-forward leg touching, no more kisses, no more heat, no more obsession.
Ringing the doorbell, I wait, reminding myself of all this and forgetting it the second Sophie opens the door. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, highlighting the natural beauty in her features. Her top is not tight, exactly, but not loose, either. It shows those big, beautiful tits.
“Come in,” she says, stepping aside and waving a hand.
She takes a big step to the side, like she doesn’t want to be close to me. Did I misread the passion in her kiss the last time? I know we can’t do it again. I know we have to be better. I didn’t stop to contemplate the idea that she didn’t enjoy the hot intimacy of the kiss as much as I did.
When she closes the door behind me, I turn to her with a tight smile. “I’ll say hello to—”
“He’s asleep,” she cuts in, “and Riley is on her break. She’ll be back soon, though.”
I wonder if she adds that last part as a reminder not to overstep the mark.
“Do you want a coffee?” she asks.
“Sure,” I reply, following her into the kitchen but keeping a decent distance between us so she doesn’t think I’m trying to push myself on her again.
It’s not just for her, either. For myself, I try to remember I’m a friend first, an obsessed savage second, and I have to stay away from her. I stand on the other side of the kitchen divider as she makes the coffee, but I can’t stop my gaze from moving to her top and those big, juicy, tempting tits. Her lips… I remember how she tasted, how her nerves melted to lust as she leaned against me. Or did I imagine the lust, hope for it? Was I projecting?
“The video’s almost at a hundred thousand views,” she says, staring at the tin of coffee almost stubbornly. “People are calling us the Fame Warriors.”
I laugh. “Fame Warriors?”
She grins, but she’s still not looking at me. “I guess we’re like superheroes. In a town full of fame-hungry, fame-chasing zombies, we’re the vigilantes fighting back, one stolen phone at a time.”
“Maybe we should make T-shirts.”
She glances at me quickly, biting her lip in that intoxicating way she has. That quick look is worth more than anything that any other woman has ever done for me. Maybe that means I’ve led a sad, lonely life, but I don’t think it’s that. It’s Sophie. She’s that special.
“Have you had any trouble over it?” I ask.
“No, not yet. I don’t think anybody knows my name.”
“If this PR crap sweeps you up in it, I won’t forgive myself.” I’m getting too passionate, my voice too husky.
She looks at me sharply, her wide, young, not-so-naïve eyes clear with meaning. “I’m a big girl. Don’t worry. I can handle it. I chose to take that phone out of her hand, and I’d do it again. I’ll stand by that no matter what comes my way.”
“That’s impressive,” I tell her. “It took me longer than nineteen years to get that sort of resolve.”
“Maybe I’m a prodigy, huh?” She raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face.
It’s good the divider is between us. It would be impossibly tempting to sweep her into my arms, hold her right up against me, kiss her on the cheek first, then get closer and closer to her lips, telling her how perfect she is.
“I think you might be,” I reply.
She finishes the coffee, carrying them into the living room.
“So, what are your intentions for the video?” she asks as she sits on the chair as far from me as possible.
She doesn’t seem disgusted or put off. She’s all smiles, that enticing flush in her cheeks, but she’s purposefully keeping her distance. That’s smart. We can silently agree to stay as far from each other as possible. There is less danger of losing control that way.