Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
It’s instinct to lift her off her feet, and I’m wondering if it’s just as natural for her when she wraps her legs around my waist.
Jesus fuck. I swear to God I’m not going to be able to stop myself.
There’s a whole fucking list of people watching—Cerberus, Donavan, and whatever college students just happen to be walking by. These barely of-age adults are about to get a fucking lesson because everything that’s happened to us has been building up to this. I’m not one to believe in fate. I think our lives, including our futures, are by choice not design. That was until Ayla.
With her lips pressed to mine, her warm tongue stroking inside my mouth, it feels like it was meant to be. Everything we went through is because we were supposed to be right here. The pain, the fear, the heartache… all of it led us to each other.
I kiss her harder, turning us as I pin her to the side of my truck. I can’t resist rolling my hips against her, showing her how much I’m enjoying this. I squeeze her harder when she groans into my mouth, her own need evident in the sound.
I swallow as she pulls away, her eyes filled with tears. Before Mexico, I would make a joke right now. I’d try to get people to laugh while I got my emotions under control, but this woman fucking changes everything.
“Need you,” I whisper as if we don’t have an audience standing around and judging us.
She bites her lip. “I can feel that you do.”
I shake my head. “Not just that, Ayla. I need you.”
A tangle of sadness and relief fills her eyes. “I need you too.”
A throat clears behind us before I can seal that confession with a kiss, making her eyes dart over my shoulder.
I bite my lip to keep from saying what I really want to say when the apples of her cheeks start to turn red. She’s embarrassed, having gotten completely lost in our kiss, and I fucking love the sight of it.
She untangles her legs from around my waist, but I don’t give her any room, a heady moan erupting from my throat when she slides down the front of me.
“College students are recording us on their phones,” she whispers before burying her face in my chest.
I look over my shoulder, past the Cerberus guy who just shakes his head and walks back to his SUV. Sure enough, there are several people standing on the sidewalk with their phones pointed in our direction. What does it say about this newest generation that they don’t even stop once I make it clear I know what they’re doing?
“Let’s go,” I say, nodding at Donavan.
I have no doubt he was going to jump in to help me, but I also see the relief on his face that he didn’t have to. He was already pissed that he ended up in a situation that tangled with Cerberus.
Instead of going around to the passenger side, Ayla climbs into the truck on my side, her perfect ass damn near in my face before she settles on the other side of the truck.
“Nope,” I say when I climb in and flip up the middle console.
I pat the bench seat beside me, waiting for her to settle there and buckle her seatbelt.
“Still want to head toward Plano?”
“Might as well,” she says, making my chest cave just a little.
Doubt begins to settle back inside of me. It was a kiss. It may be attraction. It may be addiction borne of the trauma we’ve both suffered.
She said she needs me too. She knows I wasn’t talking about just sex.
“Stop,” she whispers, pressing her palm to my thigh. “I can practically smell your brain working.”
My erection won’t go away. Even forty-five minutes later when we merge onto Interstate 35, it’s a steel pipe in my pants. I think she’s purposely torturing me because she’ll brush the side of it every couple of minutes, as if checking to see if it’s still there, but she doesn’t make any further demands.
I don’t think she’s unaffected with the way she keeps redistributing her weight on the seat, as if she’s uncomfortable, but she hasn’t made much of an advance either.
The torture continues in silence all the way down the fucking interstate. By the time we make it right to the southern part of Waco, I’m done with the wait.
She doesn’t say a word when I take an exit, but a quick glance at the soft smile she’s trying to hide by looking out the passenger window is the only thing I need to tell me that I’m making the right choice.
The shoulder of the road is the best I can do. Waiting a second longer to feel her body against mine just isn’t possible.