Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I slant my mouth down over hers, kissing the insult from her lips before she can finish uttering it. I mean for it to be a quick peck to silence her, but somehow, she ends up pressed up against the side of the truck with me pinning her hands to the window.
We kiss like we're starving for the taste of each other, coming back again and again. Every time we try to break apart, we're drawn right back together, unable to separate. I know damn well it's not what she intends to do, but she can't stop herself. She can't stop the greedy little whine she keeps giving me, either. That sound has me so hard I'm ready to say to hell with getting her stuff.
I want her. Waves of desire roll through me one after the other. They crawl up my spine, sending shockwaves of need right to my cock. Fucking hell. I've never felt anything like it.
I devour her, ravishing her mouth like it's mine to claim.
Fuck it. It is mine.
She can deny it all she wants, but sooner or later, she's going to admit the same thing I realized five minutes after meeting her. This isn't a job. It's personal. Kenna Maxwell is going to be mine.
"Stop kissing me," she gasps and then kisses me again.
"You stop kissing me, Sparrow."
"Can't." She bites my lip. "You started it."
"Right. That means I have to be a goddamn gentleman and finish it." I draw her tongue into my mouth, sucking on it. "My Ma didn't raise a quitter."
"Neither did mine." She tugs against my hands, trying to free hers. "Let me go so I can pull your hair."
"Fuck," I growl, biting her bottom lip this time. "Keep saying shit like that and we won't be getting your stuff, Kenna."
"Have to get it. My guitar is in there, Marine."
Shit. I need to let her go.
I kiss her again, long and deep, and then reluctantly drag my mouth from hers. I haul myself away from her, putting distance between us before we end up in the same predicament again. As much as I'd appreciate continuing down that road, I know damn well that she isn't anywhere near ready to go there.
Already, I see the panic growing in her eyes, as if now that she isn't in my arms, she's realizing what just happened between us. For some reason, the fact that she's attracted to me scares the hell out of her. I'm not sure why, but I'd really fucking like to know.
Unfortunately, I don't think now is the time.
"Don't overthink it, Sparrow," I say quietly. "It was just a kiss."
She watches me with wide, stricken eyes, her fingertips pressed to her lips. "That can't happen again, Gideon."
"Kenna."
"It can't happen again," she growls before squeezing past me and scurrying toward the house as fast as she can.
I watch her go, cursing up a blue streak.
I think I just fucked up. And I have a feeling it's going to cost me. Big time.
Chapter Four
Kenna
"What time do we need to be at the studio tomorrow?"
"We?" I jerk my head up from my plate, looking at Gideon for the first time since we got back to my apartment. "What do you mean we?"
"I'm your bodyguard, Sparrow. I go where you go."
"You can't follow me everywhere, Gideon."
"It's in the job description."
My fork clatters against my plate, rattling almost as much as I'm rattled. I shouldn't have let him kiss me. I shouldn't have kissed him back. Now, everything is awkward and weird. I feel awkward and weird. It's an uncomfortable place to be, considering that he's going to be living in my tiny space with me for God only knows how long.
"Well, you need to find something else to do while I'm recording, Gideon," I say, grabbing my plate and heading for the sink. "You can't be there distracting me. This is too important."
I realize that I sound like a brat as soon as the words leave my lips, but I don't call them back or try to soften them. I need a buffer between me and this man before I go crazy. He's under my skin, sinking deeper by the minute.
"Sparrow."
I scrape the food from my plate, tossing it into the trash. I barely ate. He cleaned his plate. Clearly, he isn't nearly as anxious about this whole arrangement as I am. If anything, I think he's a little too comfortable with it. But then again, it's not his life being turned upside down by a bossy giant who wants to sleep with him.
I drop my plate into the sink and start gathering up the rest of the dishes. Maybe I'm odd, but I've always found cleaning to be a particular sort of relaxing. I could use a little of that right now.
Gideon's hand comes down on my shoulder.