Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Henn chuckles. “Yet another reason I like you. You’re easy to please.”
I gleefully flutter my palms together. “So, what’s the surprise dessert?”
“It’s right down the street. You’ll know soon enough.”
I gasp. “Are you taking me to Holy Crepe?”
“Damn. How’d you guess so fast?”
“It wasn’t a guess as much as a hope. I love that place.”
“I’ve rented it out for us. The owner, Francois, is going to give us a private lesson in crepe-making.”
I squeal like I’ve won the lottery. “I love Francois! And Holy Crepe is one of my all-time favorite dessert places in Seattle.”
“That’s lucky. I figured, if I can’t take the girl to Paris for dessert, then I’ll bring Paris to the girl.”
Our waiter appears again, this time to place the bill in front of Henn, who picks it up without so much as a glance at me. Once again, I find myself swooning. So many times on first dates, even when a guy’s the one who asked me out, he’ll look at me when the bill arrives as if to say, “Are you going to pay your fair share?” But not Peter Hennessey. Even though he’s clearly not loaded like his two best friends, he hands the waiter his credit card without so much as a glance at me, the same way Josh did at that fancy restaurant in Vegas.
“Why don’t we go Dutch?” I offer, reaching for my purse.
“Absolutely not,” Henn says. “Let’s get something straight, Milly Vanilli. You’ll never pay a dime when you’re on a date with me. That’s non-negotiable, so, please, don’t even offer.”
Oh, my heart. I think it just physically skipped a beat. “Thank you.”
After getting his credit card back from the waiter, Henn stands and pulls out my chair for me—so sweet—and we proceed to walk hand in hand toward the front door of the restaurant. As we walk, I can’t help internally rhapsodizing about how handsome he is. How generous and sweet. I feel all the same electricity coursing between us as I did in Las Vegas, but even more so.
When we step outside into the cold night air, I fling my arms around Henn’s neck and give him a huge kiss in the middle of the sidewalk. God help me, I’m falling for this gorgeous boy. If he hadn’t already paid good money to rent out Holy Crepe for a private lesson, I’d invite him back to my place now, my silly plan to slow things down physically be damned. But since he did, and I’m grateful for it, I’ll take this time to get my bearings and pull myself together—to remind myself the most important thing here is giving this budding relationship the best possible chance of turning into a full-blown love affair. After one final kiss, I release Henn, wink at him, and whisper, “Come on, handsome. Let’s learn how to make crepes.”
12
HANNAH
When we reach the front door to my apartment, I turn around and slide my arms around Henn’s neck. “Thank you for a magical night.” I kiss him, and he kisses me back, and in three seconds flat, we’re making out against my front door—the kind of make-out session where I’ve got my thigh around his hip and he’s groping my ass while pressing his hardness against me. The kind where we’re both shuddering and breathing hard and writhing like we’re being electrocuted with primal lust. It’s utterly delicious.
To my surprise, even after several minutes of heat, Henn doesn’t suggest we continue our fun inside. Does he think Maddy is still inside my apartment, and this is all the sexual activity he’s going to enjoy before returning to his hotel room for the night? That was my initial plan for tonight, actually. I told myself I’d press the reset button on the physical stuff this week. But now that I’m here, and Henn’s desire for a long-term relationship couldn’t be any clearer, I want nothing more than to drag this hottie into my bed and enjoy an enthusiastic repeat of our electrifying night in Vegas.
I break free of Henn’s lips. “You want to come inside?” Henn nods effusively and opens his mouth to speak. But before he gets a word out, I add, “And by that, I mean: inside me?”
Henn chuckles. “Even better.”
It takes a minute to find my keys in my purse, but finally, we tumble inside my place as one horny unit and immediately begin stripping off our clothes as we bumble our way, kissing, toward my bedroom. Once we make it to my bed, Henn lays down my writhing, naked body, spreads my thighs, and launches into eating me with the enthusiasm of a starving man attacking a long-awaited meal.
As Henn’s lips and tongue perform their hungry work, I grip his hair between my legs, throw my head back, and moan with relief and pleasure. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I can now personally attest to that fact. What they don’t tell you, however, is that absence also makes The Horny grow a shit-ton hornier.