Page 20 of Accidental Husband

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But I know—

Fuck, I'm not thinking about that. There's way too much to do.

I distract myself. Debate playlist details with Jules. I have no ground to stand on—I agreed to give her free rein—but I still put up a fight. Get her to include more Joy Division and less All Time Low.

She waits until midnight to admit that she hasn't packed.

I set my alarm for six a.m. Rise early, shower, pick up drinks on the way to her place.

But we don't have nearly enough time.

This place is a fucking disaster.

Chapter Seven

Griffin

Ayawn falls from Jules's lips. "I thought we were leaving at nine?"

"Eight."

Her gaze shifts from her messy room to the pristine hallway. To her parents' master bedroom. "Mom is still asleep."She wouldn't want you in my room alone.

"You're twenty-two."

"You're twenty-three."

"Fuck, I didn't realize that. Thanks for the update."

She takes a long sip of her matcha. Her low sigh of pleasure fades into a yawn. It's adorable. And hot as fuck.

I mean, it would be. If it was someone else.

"You must be tired." My fingers brush her shoulder. They trace the Angels logo. The t-shirt is thin. I can feel the heat of her skin beneath it. "Thought you burned this."

"All my good clothes are packed."

"Right."

"They are." She stretches her arms over her head, pulling her t-shirt (well, my t-shirt) up her torso.

My gaze shifts to the sliver of skin on display. The small of her back.

She thinks she's lacking curves, but she's not.

Her figure is gorgeous.

Not that I care.

Even if I wanted to fuck her—and I don't—I don't discriminate against women with a higher waist hip ratio.

I'm observing facts. Not stating preferences.

There are plenty of men fixed on conventional beauty standards. Jules is gorgeous, but she doesn't always play to her strengths.

If I want to help her get laid, I need to help her highlight her perky tits and her fantastic ass.

And that long, dark hair.

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