Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Flynn watched my hand warily for one beat. Two. Then just as I thought he was going to hiss and claw or maybe punch me, he released the breath he was holding and took my hand in his, pulling me into his body. I set my free hand just above his hip, and he wrapped his free arm around my back as we swayed to the music.
Fuck, it felt good to let him hold me. I’d forgotten just how good. His fingers were warm and strong on the small of my back, and the sway of his hips never faltered. He smelled like leather and honey, sweet and biting and real.
I clasped his hand tightly and stepped back, spinning him away for just a second in time to the music.
“For the record, this is a terrible idea,” Flynn growled, his voice so heavy with want that I shivered.
“This is a fucking fantastic idea,” I breathed, and then I reeled him right back into my arms. “Trust me.”
Chapter Eight
Flynn
Could I trust him? Thirty years of past experience suggested no.
Did I want to? I pressed my nose to JT’s neck and inhaled a breath of him—clean summer sweat layered over a fragrance that was smoky and no doubt expensive—and felt my gut tighten with need.
Yeah. Yeah, I definitely wanted to.
“Let me take you to bed, Firecracker.” His voice was low and easy, as if he had no reservations or stress about the decision.
How nice for him.
“We shouldn’t.” Those two whispered words were as close to a denial as I could muster, and even as I said them, my fingers dug into the muscles beneath his T-shirt, and my hand clenched his more tightly, begging him silently not to listen.
All hail Flynn Honeycutt, the king of mixed signals.
But JT only chuckled lightly, like he understood my struggle. “Flynn, baby, stop thinking so hard.” His lips moved against my temple, and I fought a full-body shudder.
“Not your baby,” I insisted, dragging my nose up the tendon in his neck. His muscles tightened around me, clasping me against him as he shuddered, too.
“But you could be,” he murmured, his hand moving lower until it hovered just over the curve of my ass. “For tonight.”
Christ, the man was temptation incarnate. Always had been. Regardless of how much he provoked me, he also turned me on more than any other man had in my life. He was at the very top of Flynn Honeycutt’s Personal List of Sexy Humans, far above any celebrity or local guy I’d dated.
The last thing I wanted was a repeat of what had happened three years ago, but I was a different person now. Stronger. No matter how good it was between us, I wouldn’t delude myself into thinking it could be anything more than physical or anything longer than one night.
I closed my eyes and took another deep breath of him, stalling for time. I hoped like hell he hadn’t put on that cologne for the spoiled asshole who’d been here with him earlier. The very idea was absolutely infuriating… and fury made me reckless.
I licked a broad, claiming stripe up his neck and bit lightly on his earlobe.
“Fuck,” he whimpered. JT dropped all pretense of dancing, and the hand that wasn’t on my ass immediately moved to the nape of my neck, holding my mouth exactly where it was.
“This is just sex. I don’t want you to think it means anything,” I murmured, my breath coasting over his ear.
“I know,” he whispered.
“Because it doesn’t. And it never will.”
“Okay.”
“And you’d better not feel smug because you—”
With a frustrated, needy growl, JT grabbed my head with both hands and smashed his mouth against mine, shutting me up very effectively.
I made a mpfh sound against his lips and then let it turn into a drawn-out groan.
God, he felt good. Water-in-the desert good. Coffee-in-the-morning good. Sun-on-your-face good. The kind of good that could make a man ignore a whole lot of past wrongs, at least temporarily, because it felt so damn right.
His warm hands moved down to span my back as he held me close. One of his legs shifted between mine, and he used it to rock us back and forth to the music, though we both knew it was just an excuse to stay pressed close against each other.
We kissed and kissed and kissed as the songs changed one after the other. I lost myself in the feel of his hands, the smell of his skin, and the taste of his mouth. JT Wellbridge was overwhelming to the senses. Without even trying, the man had me on total overload. Complete meltdown.
“Where’s the music player?” he asked.
I blinked at him in confusion until he smiled softly. Affectionately.
“The music. I want to turn it off.” His voice went low and rough. “We’re going to your bed.”