Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“Are you going to call him back?”
“Eventually.” A muscle moved in his cheek. “I need to talk to you first.”
The doors of the elevator opened on Josephine’s floor and they stepped off, moving side by side down the hallway toward her room. And it was really saying something that she could feel the electric pulse of anticipation when she needed to shower and change this badly. Was he going to come into her room again? How could she miss the scrape of his jaw on her cheeks so badly when she’d experienced it only once? “What do you need to talk to me about?”
“Safety.” He whipped off his ballcap and raked five fingers through his hair, throwing a glance back toward the elevators. “When I said I wanted everyone to know how important you are, I didn’t think ahead far enough. If you could just stay put in this room unless I’m with you, belle . . .” He patted the air with both hands. “My stress level would appreciate it.”
“Wells, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re just asking for my autograph because I happened to be there. They were just being nice.”
“Golf fans are mean as sin, Josephine. I once had a child in a Callaway hat give me the finger. And he was with his grandma. Who told me to shove a club up my ass.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
“It’s not funny. I’m asking you nicely—since nice shit is apparently so important to you—to please not go traipsing around the resort before sunrise anymore. Call me and I will come get you. Please.”
“Wow. I don’t know if traipsing is the right word . . .”
“Josephine.” Wells advanced on her, hesitating with a curse when their bodies were a breath apart. But then he pushed forward the remaining distance, flattening her against the door, making both of them exhale shakily, their bodies shifting together. Closer. “Let me be careful with you, belle. Let me worry without asking a bunch of questions, okay?”
“You hate questions,” she whispered.
“Yeah. But I really, really don’t hate you.” Eyes closed, he rolled his forehead against hers. “Deal with it.”
Why was it that this man saying he didn’t hate her was the equivalent of another man promising to build her a kingdom? “When you retire from golf, you could consider poetry.”
He made a frustrated sound, kissing her hard as he slapped both of his hands down on the door above her head. “If you make me wait one more second to hear your agreement to be careful, Josephine, I swear to God.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her breath beginning to shallow, need causing her thoughts to run together in one high-pitched, continuous note. “It’s kind of fun making you wait.”
Going still, he searched her eyes, and laughed low under his breath at what he saw.
Challenge. Excitement.
Wells looked up and down the hallway. Clearly checking for other guests.
Making sure they were alone.
Then in one swift move, Wells lowered his hips and pressed up roughly between her thighs, lifting her feet off the floor. “You like teasing me?” he rasped into her neck.
Did she?
Yeah . . .
“Maybe a little.”
“I could bring you inside,” he said, circling his hips slowly, making sparks dance in front of her eyes. “Convince you to give me my prize a day early.”
“You could try,” she gasped, the thick base of him rubbing her clit.
He stayed right there, pressing tight. Tight. Tight. Until she screamed in her mouth.
“I could succeed.” He swooped down and consumed her lips in a hungry kiss, drawing her tongue into his mouth with suction, then giving it back and licking deep, groaning with fervent approval. Snagging her bottom lip between his teeth with a growl before letting it go. “But I want to look you in the eye while I’m coming and know I fucking earned it. And I’m not talking about money, I’m talking about . . . you being proud. Of me.”
She could only stare at him, shaken. In fact, he seemed a little caught off guard himself. “I’m already proud of you.”
“Then I want more of it, Josephine.” He kissed her softly and tensed, wincing as he let her feet meet the floor again. “A lot more,” he said, stepping back and adjusting himself with a pained laugh. “I need to go before I change my mind. Are you going to stay put or not?”
Her nod was unsteady, thanks to all her bones transforming into gelatin. “You’re lucky there’s a bathtub.”
“There will always be a bathtub, Josephine.” He plowed his fingers through his hair again and turned, groaning up at the ceiling on his way to the elevator. “Good fucking night.”
The corner of her lips tilted. “Good night, Wells.”
She drifted into her room in a daze and plopped down on the carpet, staring into space, replaying the kiss while her fingers traced her lips. Was she falling for Wells Whitaker? Like the real man and not the persona she’d always admired from afar?