Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” she says, biting her lip when her gaze scans my body. “I almost forgot my manners. Whiskey and Coke?”
“Sure.”
“I think I’ll join you. Feel free to snoop.”
The heat isn’t lost. It’s still simmering beneath the surface, but all good things come to those who wait. So I wait.
Standing at the window, I look at her view of the street while noting we’re high enough not to hear any traffic. Not a lot of privacy, though, considering she has windows everywhere. I hear the clink of ice hitting the bottom of the glass, the air escaping the bottle of soda, and then the fizz as it’s poured. “Do people in Manhattan ever close their windows, or they just get used to living in a fishbowl?” I ask.
“The latter. Most probably don’t even have blinds or curtains. I do in the bedroom but not out here. Why? Do you feel like people are watching you?”
“Kind of.”
I feel her next to me, standing so close her arm is against mine. She hands me one glass, keeping the other and taking a sip. Her eyes return from the distance to peer up at me. “What should we toast to?”
Leaning the edge of the glass to hers, I reply, “To tonight.”
There are no words spoken but a silent understanding, making me realize we do that a lot for two people who apparently can’t read each other. Taking a gulp, I return my gaze forward. “It’s a nice view.”
“An exhibitionist’s dream come true.” There’s no glory in the words, almost as if she doesn’t relate. Anymore . . .
I glance down at her as she sips her drink. “I didn’t know you liked whiskey.”
She smiles, the heat of the alcohol reaching her cheeks. “I don’t, but I liked the way you tasted earlier.” Seeming to catch herself, she laughs lightly. “Maybe I like whiskey, or maybe I just like the taste of you.” There’s no follow-up shrug or deflection. Tatum stands there, owning her likes and dislikes without regard for judgment or fear of rejection.
I couldn’t turn away from her if I wanted, so she’s righteous in her stance. Angling closer, I tilt down and kiss her on the forehead. It’s not steamy or frenzied, but it fits the moment.
Finishing her drink, she saunters back into the kitchen. When I turn back, she’s grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge. “We didn’t eat much. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
She laughs. “Let’s get you fed then.” Pulling a binder from a drawer, she leans against the counter and starts flipping through the pages. “You can have anything your heart desires.”
I come up behind her, not subtle, and slide my hands around her waist. There’s no tension in her body, and when she tilts her head to the side, she gives me full access to that graceful neck of hers.
Simmering.
Her body vibrates with untamed energy, her breath laden with need just from the simplest touch of her body and kisses placed sparingly on her neck.
She inhales another jagged breath. Like a mouse, she taunts me, keeping the one thing we want just out of reach. “I thought you were hungry?”
“I am.” I reach over and close the binder, preferring her hands on me instead. Unlike a cat, I don’t play with my prey. “For you first. Food later.”
Spinning in my arms, she wraps hers around my neck. “Why do I have a feeling that by later, you mean tomorrow?”
I lean in again, this time nuzzling her ear and placing a kiss just under her lobe before whispering, “Because you and I both know we’re going to be too busy to bother with—”
“The essentials like eating and—”
“We can shower together.” Kiss. “Eat together.” Kiss. Kiss. “Have sex again, and then—”
“Repeat.” Looking into my eyes, she studies my reaction as if I scare easily.
I kiss her lips so softly that a breath breaks us apart. “You don’t have to play hostess. I want you, Tatum,” I say against her cheek as I rest my forehead to hers.
A soft sigh is followed by the whisper of a question. “Why have I been fighting this so hard?”
“Because you’re scared of the possibility of us.”
“I’m not scared,” she says with a tremble in her tone. She exhales and then smiles, an assurance taking over. “I just don’t understand where this could possibly lead tomorrow when we live across the country from each other.”
“We don’t.”
“Currently. One day, you’ll return to LA. You might already have your one-way ticket home.”
I caress her cheek, thinking her tough exterior wasn’t built on gentle touch. It’s not taming her wild side but embracing the softer parts of her. “I’m here now.”
“You say that as if the hero has entered the story and will save the day.”
That mouth. Fuck, that mouth. I kiss her, embracing her lips with mine, our mouths open and our tongues tangling together. This time, I take charge and pull back under panting breaths. “You don’t need saving, baby. You just need someone else to keep the world from weighing you down for a short time.”