Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Here or somewhere else?” I’ve heard the rumors, and noticed Stormy hasn’t been out and about like she usually is. The random appearances she once made are gone. It didn’t go unnoticed either that my niece and Zach aren’t in town, adding fuel to the fire in the way of the rumor mill. The dust should have settled. It hasn’t yet, and that’s because of this small fucking coastal town, sinking its claws into gossip and not letting it go.
“It doesn’t matter.” The shrug of her shoulders says more than she’s letting on. Christ, right now, there’s a hesitance when she didn’t have any the last time I saw her. It was also when I placed her in bed, her wedding dress sliding further off her body, and she didn’t once think about using her hand to hold it up. I also realized she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath, the fabric dipping so low I now know the color surrounding her nipples. The only reason I didn’t take her up on her offer after she told me one too many times how she’d like to actually come with a cock inside her instead of a vibrating toy, was how inebriated she was. And believe me, it was fucking hard to hold back. Stormy’s display of her tight body ended too fucking soon. She fell backwards, head hitting the pillow, arms spread wide, eyes closing, and was out like a damn light. The only sound in the room beside my heavy breathing was her soft sighs. There was nothing left for me to do. I wasn’t going to stick around. She was far too much temptation, and if she woke up the next morning, forgetting about the whole night, yeah, I didn’t even want to think about that. I went to her kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, rummaged enough to find some pain reliever, and set it on her nightstand. My eyes landed on her one last time. She was out, hadn’t even moved when I put the blanket on top of her. My fingers grazed her collarbone, and I knew it was now or never. I walked out of her apartment like the fires of hell were on my heels and I couldn’t trust myself to do something too fucking dangerous. I hit the button on her keypad, heard the deadbolt click into place, tested the knob, and haven’t seen her since. Until today.
“Barbie!” I call out to my lead bartender, the one who runs the bar when I’m out for a couple of days every now and then.
“Yeah, Griff?” she responds without looking up from pouring a beer from the tap.
“You good for a bit?” I came in early to work on some paperwork and relieve her when I was through.
“As long as I’m off by five, I’m good.” She glances up after placing the glass in front of Rodger, one of the old timers who comes here every day after he’s off his shift.
“Appreciate it.” Stormy’s hands cling to my stomach still. She doesn’t look over her shoulder or anywhere else besides my chest.
“No problem,” she replies. My hand finally goes to Stormy’s, holding them to my chest as I take a step backward, opening the bar door with my back.
“Come on, we’ll hit the beach.” She nods, loosening her hold on me when the sun hits us. She squints her eyes, and I take my sunglasses off the neck of my shirt, handing them to her, and pull my hat down lower to shield my own.
“Thanks. I won’t take too much of your time.” Our bodies gravitate toward one another, my hand going to her lower back as she puts my sunglasses on.
“I’ve got plenty of time for you, Stormy.” She doesn’t stutter in her steps, but I do hear her quick intake of breath, and a grin takes over my face. It seems she likes that I speak my mind, a damn good thing, too, because I’ll be telling her exactly what I want once we’re down by the beach.
3
STORMY
Baby girl. I’m not dreaming, right? Those two words currently have a chokehold on me, and I’m dissecting them internally. Maybe he uses that for every woman he’s around, or maybe he doesn’t. The doesn’t part of this scenario has me thinking it’s for me only, especially when Griff stepped closer to me, and I felt something. Okay, fine, it wasn’t something; it was everything. Everything Zach was not—long, thick, and unbelievably hard. Maybe throwing myself at him when I was drunk didn’t backfire on me after all.
Griff’s bar, High Tide Tavern, is on the beach, a small boardwalk. I’m kicking off my sandals, allowing the hot sand to sink between my toes, the hot sun beating against my shoulders. The salty breeze causes a few tendrils of hair to come loose from of my ponytail and blow across my face.