Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
My arms drop back down to my sides. My lips part in anticipation.
“You’re going to show me how badly you want that exclusive, Casey?”
Oh, how dirty.
I didn’t think ole Mr. Quiz Bowl had it in him.
“Yes.”
There’s no tripping over that word; it spills out of me like I’ve been waiting to say it for days. His eyes spark with mischief, and that little muscle in his jaw works as he clenches it, approaching me confidently as I hold my ground despite my shaking knees.
I’m frozen in surprise. I didn’t think we’d get here this fast. I thought there’d be a bit more give-and-take, some convincing on my part, but his blue eyes challenge me to uphold my promise.
“Show me what you’re willing to do, Casey. Make me believe it.”
Oh my god.
I try not to panic.
It’s happening! IT’S HAPPENING!
Right, but . . . does he want me to do something here? In the hall? It’s one thing to talk a big game and another to actually go through with it in public like this. It’s a sort of dare, I realize. He doesn’t seem bothered by our current location, and so I damn well don’t care either. Hah. I peer around the corner to find the coast is clear, and by the time I look back at Phillip, my mind is absolutely made up. I’m going to kiss Phillip, and if it’s a disaster, then let it be a disaster. At least I will have done something worthy of regret. At least I won’t have to sit in that uncomfortable state of wondering what if for one more day. I look at his mouth, at the luscious color, at the slight fullness and pout. He has lovely lips. That doesn’t seem like a compliment you can give a man, but he deserves to hear it. I’m too shy to tell him, though, so I’ll just have to show him. I sidle up to him, and after taking a moment to gather my bravery, I slide my hands up the front of his suit jacket—over his broad chest—until they come to a stop at the lapels. I look up, waiting for him to call it, to laugh or shake his head, to give some indication that I’ve pushed things too far. When he just stares down at me in silence, I take it as a green light.
With one final quivering breath, I rise up and lean ever so gently against him before pressing my lips to his.
It’s a kiss, but it’s one sided. I’m kissing him. I’m leading the charge with soft lips and gentle teasing.
For so long, he makes me work for it. His hands move to rest on my hips, but that’s it. There’s barely any possession there. He could be holding on to a stair rail, for god’s sake. He doesn’t lean in; he doesn’t make a sound. His lips move only in accordance with mine, and it pisses me off. I press closer and part my lips so my tongue can dart out for a lick. I make a tiny sound of longing—a desperate plea, more like—and it’s as though I’ve just shocked him with a defibrillator and brought him back to life. Now he moves; now his fingers dig into my dress. Something hot flutters in my belly as we kiss hungrily, devouring each other. God, now it’s good. Everything I wanted it to be. We kiss, and we kiss, and I start to slip away from that deserted hallway. I’m nothing beyond a racing heart, a tightly wound belly. His hands slide over my backside as my own sink into his hair. Ownership—that’s what we’re playing at. Our lower bodies mold together, and without warning, he whirls me around so that my front is flush against the wall, my arms down by my side, caged in by his hard body. Holy . . . As my mouth is torn away from his, I swallow a squeal, our heavy breaths mingling as our faces stay close together.
He bends low and nuzzles the side of my neck. “That’s good, but it’s not enough.”
The arrogant bastard.
My nails scrape down the front of his thighs. “What do you want, then?”
“Truly?” he asks, tipping his head back to meet my eyes. “Nothing will convince me. You shouldn’t bother.”
I shouldn’t bother?
He has me pressed up against this wall like he’s about to take me here and now. I can feel how hard he is, pressed right against my backside. I roll my hips to prove my point, and I succeed in provoking a low groan from him.
“You’re putty in my hands,” I goad with a triumphant smile.
He kisses the side of my neck, stealing my glee and replacing it with red-hot wanting.
If he meant to make it quick, he doesn’t succeed. We’re dragged right back down to a place full of feelings and baser needs. His body presses up against mine, and we grind on each other, trying to sate our growing desire. My hands band around his thighs, and I feel his muscles shift. His body is so full of strength, but his kisses are slow, mesmerizing, explorative . . . He’s no brute. He’s sensual in a way I wasn’t expecting, wasn’t prepared for. When was the last time a man kissed me like this?