Full Throttle (Reynold’s Restorations #5) Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love Tags Authors: Series: Reynold's Restorations Series by Melanie Moreland
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
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Her muscles contracted under my touch, and I heard her fast inhale of air. Unable to resist, I stroked my thumbs in circles on her leggings, eliciting another tightening of her legs. I met her narrowed eyes. “Making sure you don’t fall. Any other missed spots?” I asked innocently.

“Over there, in the corner,” she replied as she climbed down.

I moved the ladder, and Cherry edged past me, our bodies sliding against each other. I stifled a groan as I felt her curves sweep by my torso, her full breasts pressing into my chest. I swore I heard her whimper, and she stumbled. I reached out and caught her around the waist, holding her upright.

“Okay there, Cherry G?”

She looked up, and I stared down. Her eyes were mesmerizing, the colors swirling in them making them unique and pretty. She blinked at me, caught in my gaze. We were so close, I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin. Sensed her instinct to move closer, even as she began to pull away. I brushed away a loose tendril from her cheek, wanting to follow the path with my lips. I began to lower my head when she made an odd squeaking noise and stepped away.

“Oops, almost got paint on you. I-I need a break. Going to get some water. Cool down. It’s hot, isn’t it? All this work?” she babbled.

“It’s not the work that’s hot.”

Her eyes widened, and without another word, she turned and fled.

I let her go, laughing under my breath. It had gotten hotter.

And once again, my jeans had gotten tighter.

Painting had never been this stimulating before. I doubted it ever would be again.

CHAPTER TWO

Dom

Iwatched Cherry the rest of the evening. I sat with Chase, discussing a few other renos he was planning, but my gaze didn’t stray from the pretty redhead very often. Our eyes met time and again, and she was always the first to look away. But I saw the color in her cheeks and the way she tossed her hair, as if attempting to dismiss me, only to glance my way once more a few moments later. I liked her looking at me. I hoped she liked what she saw as much as I enjoyed staring at her. More than once, I tamped down the urge to go sit beside her. I wanted her attention, to talk to her, get her number. Maybe steal a kiss or wrap my hand around hers. But I resisted. I had the feeling, despite her bravado, she was skittish, and I didn’t want to scare her off.

Later, as I was getting a coffee in the kitchen, she walked in, her hands filled with plates and cutlery. I had noticed how she jumped up to help whenever she could. I found that appealing. She wasn’t a woman who expected to be waited on. Although if she asked, I would happily do so.

I reached out, taking the stack from her hands and setting it on the counter. “Coffee?” I asked.

“Please.”

I poured her a cup, adding cream and a single sugar cube, handing it to her.

“How did you know?” she queried.

“I was watching earlier. I took notes.”

She lifted one eyebrow at me, her lips pursed. “Is that so?”

I nodded, leaning against the counter. “I took a lot of notes.”

She tossed her head, and I grinned behind the mug, taking a sip.

“Is that so?” she repeated.

I nodded. “You’re highly organized. You like to be in charge. You’re not afraid of hard work. You’re a great mother, and you extend that maternal instinct to other young people. There is nothing pretentious or fake about you. And when you’re feeling anxious or unsure, you toss your hair.” I winked at her. “I like that.”

She blinked.

“You are incredibly sexy and have no idea how sensuous you are. You have a great ass, and I hope you wear leggings a lot when I see you. I hope I get to discover how that ass feels gripped in my hands one day.” I took a sip of coffee. “Soon.”

She looked around the kitchen as if making sure I was speaking to her, not someone else.

“Yes, you, Cherry G.”

“You can’t say things like that to me.”

“I think I already did.”

“You said you liked me as a friend.”

“No, I said I treated my friends well. I’ll treat you even better.”

“I-I have to put these in the dishwasher,” she sputtered, turning away. I saw the color in her cheeks and the way her eyes glittered under the light. She liked what I was saying.

I tilted my head, grinning widely. She was methodical as she slid the plates into the rack—not unexpected. But it was the fact that she bent as she did so, thrusting that perfect ass in my direction again. I drained my coffee and approached her. I put my mug in the dishwasher, my fingers brushing her hand. She stilled, looking up. I was close to her again, inhaling her fragrance, feeling her warmth. Our eyes locked, the heat between us sizzling. When she unconsciously licked her lips, I groaned quietly. “Very soon, I’m going to kiss those lips,” I murmured.



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