Pumpkin and Spice by Abby Knox

Author:Abby Knox [Knox, Abby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Abby Knox, LLC
Published: 2018-11-19T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Stoner

Max is sitting in the corner seat of the bar, next to the wall, reading a book.

She doesn’t know it, but I am keeping my eye on her as she reads. For some reason it’s incredibly sexy. Her blonde waves fall around her face as she concentrates on the page. I can tell when the book gets really good because her lips part slightly like she’s anticipating some big drama. I want to close those lips with mine. I also can’t stop my lizard brain from picturing that mouth clinging to my shaft. I want to fill her open mouth, feel those pouty lips wrapped around me.

She’s so damn beautiful.

Her hair keeps falling into her face and she keeps tucking it behind her ear. But it doesn’t stay put because it’s so thick and heavy.

I want to get lost in her soft blonde locks. Feel her hair splayed out across my stomach and thighs while her mouth brings me to the brink.

And then, her glasses. I didn’t even know she wore glasses until she pulled them out of her handbag.

They are chunky red frames that look straight out of the 1980s and they suit her delicate face.

Her stone-colored sweater and black scarf give her a striking look, and I’m starting to get twitchy to take it all off for her.

And by the looks of the other guys around the place, I’m not the only one having impure thoughts about Max.

I try to calm myself down. I wait to see how she handles herself. The old me, before therapy, would give in to this familiar feeling of rage. But the new me doesn’t so much like this beast inside.

A couple of young guys on the opposite side of the bar are shooting glances over at Max. One of the guys saunters over to her, grabs a seat on the stool next to her. Credit to her, she doesn’t even seem to notice his existence.

“Buy you a drink?”

I continue serving my patrons while zeroing in on the conversation.

I hear her say, “Huh? Oh. No, thanks. I’m just having water.”

“Then how about a phone number?”

She laughs it off. “That’s funny.”

“I’m serious,” says the guy. “You’re here by yourself, it’s not out of the question that someone might ask for your phone number.”

I shoot a glance over at them while I pour a light beer from the tap and serve it up to one of the regulars.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grabbing the intruder by the shirt.

“Not out of the ordinary, no,” Max says. “But I don’t happen to want to give you my phone number. Have a good night.”

She turns her attention back to her book.

The guy’s friend is cackling from the other side of the bar.

“The thing is,” the guy says, “you’re so pretty, I just can’t leave the bar without your number.”

She doesn’t look up this time. “Then I guess you’ll be sleeping here.”

I have to laugh.

The guy hears me. His head snaps in my direction.

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