Perfectly Broken by Prescott Lane Read Free Book Online Page B

vibrated with a text from Bret, standing ten feet away. I hate this boring shit. Beer after? Reed shook his head. The only thing he wanted after was Peyton — and her pink full lips. He needed to find out if they were as soft as they looked. The phone vibrated again. Why not?
    Reed shook his head again. He thought back to her lips. He couldn’t seem to get past them — the image of her tongue sliding across her mouth. He wanted to know what she tasted like. Maybe it was sugar from the praline or maybe chocolate from the pie or maybe it was a dash of cinnamon. And he wondered how her lips would feel, warm and wet probably, surrounding him, seeing her look up at him with her baby blue eyes. How perfect it would be, her mouth sliding him in and out. He reminded himself he’d promised to go slow, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t daydream — in and out, in and....
    The phone vibrated again. Dude, where are you? Get your head out of your ass.
    Reed gritted his teeth. He was tired of the suits, tired of the interruptions. He wanted his fantasy, his daydream — or wet dream — and he wanted it now, even if it had to be in a dusty old building. He typed quickly on his phone. Dinner with Peyton tonight . Then he pulled up Adelaide’s website on his phone, searching Peyton’s picture, adjusting it to crop out everyone else, especially Griffin.
    Her eyes jumped out at him. She was the type of woman men built buildings for — like New Orleans’ Cornstalk Hotel designed for a homesick Iowa debutante, the Boldt Castle commissioned by a millionaire on a heart-shaped island to show his undying love for his wife, the Taj Mahal tomb built by a past emperor for his cherished wife. He traced his finger across her pink lips, perfectly accenting her pale skin, then gently followed the curve of her breasts, continuing down to her waist. She seemed the perfect package — maybe too good for him.
    It suddenly occurred to him he didn’t know much about her. He only knew how he felt. He wanted to know more. He wanted to do more. He couldn’t wait to see her in a few hours.
    * * *
    Surrounded by piles of clothes in her closet, Peyton held up a frumpy dress against her bathrobe. “Quinn!”
    Her friend ran upstairs and poked her head in. “What’s up?”
    “I’m not going.”
    “But we already did your hair.” Quinn gently touched Peyton’s loose curls and took a seat beside her.
    Peyton lowered her head between her knees. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
    Quinn patted her on the back and glanced around the beautiful closet, fit for a Southern belle, with a full length mirror, white glazed cabinetry, and crown molding. Quinn wanted to cry every time she stepped inside the closet, mostly filled with baggy shirts and sweats in every color imaginable. Long gone were the cocktail dresses, cheerleading uniforms, and designer jeans, all staples of Peyton’s past wardrobe. And the closet space for at least 50 pair of shoes now only contained five, and three were for running. To Quinn, it was such a waste of valuable fashion real estate.
    “Why did I think I was ready for this?” Peyton picked up an old college sweatshirt from the floor. “Clearly, I’m not.”
    “Relax, I’ve got it all taken care of.” Quinn got up, disappearing for a few seconds before returning with a box. “Just a little something to help you feel as beautiful as you are.”
    Peyton ripped open the box, and her jaw dropped. “You didn’t?” She jumped up from the floor, holding the emerald green dress against her body. “Thank you!” She gave Quinn a huge hug then walked in front of the mirror, her excitement turning to caution.
    “Reed will love it,” Quinn assured her.
    “It’s too much,” Peyton said, turning to the side to examine herself.
    “Money?”
    “Yes, but not just that.” Peyton held the dress out to Quinn. “Way beyond my comfort zone.”
    Quinn pushed the dress back to her. “It’s time to leave that zone. Just a little,