A Graceful Mess Read Online Free PDF

throat feels dry, so I take a swig of my drink and allow an ice cube to rest on my tongue and then I suck on it. The coolness of the small square cube in my warm mouth does nothing to quench my thirst. I’d rather be sucking on her sweet little tits. I’m sure they are swollen with need. They probably haven’t been touched lately.
    God, I hope they haven’t.
    I want to cup her breasts in that tight blue dress. She has got to know what she is doing wearing that damn thing, yet her face looks lost, like she’s scared of even being in this place. Her innocence radiates off of her like a neon sign. Horny, male eyes travel down her long, slender legs, and I notice a dude standing against the wall, eyeing her a little too hard. He has a tattoo covering the hand that is holding the neck of a beer bottle. My hand tightens around my glass as the ice cube breaks into two pieces in my mouth from the blunt force of my teeth. I’d like to break that moron’s jaw. And I might just get the chance if he keeps drooling over her like a dog. She deserves way better than that chump, and way better than Carson too, that’s for damn sure. I drink her in as she strolls towards us. I don’t know why, but I can’t force my eyes away from hers. The moment she stops checking me out and her eyes travel to my face, my breath catches in my chest.
    What the hell is wrong with me?
    If I thought I was in trouble before, I should be locked away now just from the thoughts of having her under me racing through my mind. Her picture doesn’t do her justice, and now here we are, face to face. Dad warned me, and I seriously cannot mess up this case. I’ll try to play it cool tonight, although I want to pull her into my arms, slide off her dress and mark her as mine. I saw Carson looking at her when she came out of the bathroom, and he had the same glimmer in his eye. It makes me want to kick his ass, but on what grounds? It’s not like I can be like, “Back up, bro, she’s mine.” He would call my bluff, and laugh in my face. The reality is she is nothing and everything in the same being. She is Grace, and she is my client’s long lost love child. The thought makes me sick so I drink it away with the Jack.

 
     

    We walk out of the tiny, disease-ridden bathroom as Maci chants, “Carson and Gracie sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” We both start laughing and then realize our drinks are empty so we walk in the direction of our new friends. I am surprised by my sociability tonight. I guess that’s why they call alcohol “social lubricant.” The thought of fawning all over a man just for a free drink repulses me, but I don’t work and I’m on a budget, so I follow Maci’s lead.
    “Do you remember there being three of them?”
    I half think she is seeing things; I mean, she has had several drinks in the short amount of time we’ve been here, and I know if I’m feeling a head change then she must be. Her statement urges my eyes towards the small table we were at only moments before. I gasp as my eyes take in the new addition.
    He is standing in dark jeans with a light blue and white striped button-up. The first two buttons are undone, exposing a white V-neck T-shirt underneath, accompanied by a hemp necklace with a metal emblem on it. My eyes take in his height before they travel down his legs – legs that I imagine are built –to his feet, which are covered in a pair of chocolate, leather Doc Martens. His brown, shaggy hair is a little long for my liking, but it isn’t long and gross like a skateboarder or surfer, all greasy and wild. He is too big and muscular for that. You can tell he works out, that much is obvious by the broadness of his shoulders. The five o’clock shadow on his jawline gives him a scruffier appearance, and I really want to reach out and run my hands down his unshaven cheeks. Suddenly my cheeks feel flushed, which isn’t a feeling I’m used to, and I question my own sobriety as we stroll closer.
    Glancing up, we