Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I don’t think this is the first time we’ve kissed, but I can’t be sure. There’s a whole night in Vegas that is still a blank spot in my mind. This kiss, though? This is all us. Sober us. This is us kissing each other because we want to.
I kissed her because every bit of me—rational and irrational bits and bits that can’t do either rational or irrational thinking because they’re just bits—was telling me to kiss her.
I devour her mouth, drown in her, and kiss her with every bit of everything I have left. Is this the start of a second chance? I don’t know. Is it the start of a disaster? Not sure. I don’t want to think about what comes after. I just want to be lost in this now, lost in the lovely, honey-sweet taste of Echo, the sweet softness of her lips moving against mine, and the delicious sweep of her tongue searching for mine as she kisses me back with just as much passion as I’m kissing her.
Her lips part, and my lips part. I guess both our lips part, and our tongues dance, doing a slow waltz that speeds up to an impassioned tango. I groan, and she whimpers, and the sounds mix together and turn into a tornado of hotness that makes me grind up against her. Or maybe she grinds against me. I’m not sure, but she’s fisting my hair harder, dragging me into her, bumping her hips up against mine, grinding her soft curves against my crotch region, and hello. My dick is more awake than it’s ever been, perhaps this side of…well…forever. My balls are now going to try out for the little league as they’re that big and hard, and I want to angle into her. I want to give her more, kiss her more. I want to throw her over my shoulder and climb the steps of the treehouse and make her come until that air mattress fucking pops beneath us because we’re putting way too much strain on it.
I want us to be sans clothes, and I want to beat my chest like a caveman. I also want the treehouse to be our lair, our castle, our stronghold, and I want to spend the night up there with her. Maybe even more than just the night. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s not just physical either, though my body is sure as hell telling me it’s physical. There’s been an ache in my chest for the past few days that I couldn’t explain, not even to myself.
I want to explore with her and turn the treehouse into a den of steam and sin and—
“You dang blasted raccoons!” a voice shrieks.
“Gah!”
“Argh!”
Echo and I break away from each other, whipping around guiltily to face the source of the interruption. Granny is standing on the deck, holding a—what the hell? Is that a shotgun? Where the capital farge did Granny get a shotgun from? What happened to her favorite set of Glocks that she’s always willing to whip out—and not always in appropriate settings and situations?
She has curlers in her hair, and a sleep mask pushed up on her forehead. She’s also in a pink, frilly, lacy robe. I didn’t think Granny owned a set of anything pink or frilly.
I don’t know who’s more stunned—me or Echo.
“Orion?” Granny blinks at me as she lowers the shotgun. “The motion sensors went off out here. I thought it was raccoons. I caught one in the trash last night. You think it’s possible they followed us all the way from Victoria’s house?”
“Oh my god,” I hiss under my breath. “I don’t know,” I admit loudly so Granny can hear me.
“What are you doing outside?” she exclaims.
Echo elbows me in the ribs. “Thought she was in on the whole surveillance thing.”
Honestly, I thought so too. But nope. Just like that, I’m busted. And the kiss we were sharing is over. There isn’t going to be any throwing Echo over my shoulder and carting her up to the treehouse. No bursting the air mattress monster or seeing who can get eaten by it again, and no rocking the treehouse right out of the tree. No…just no. Just nothing.
“I…” I turn around to say something, but Echo is already scrambling up the ladder, her hips shimmying, her calves flexing, and her bottom swaying. She crawls in, which gives me one last amazing view of her bottom, then slams the door shut. I can hear something being dragged in front of it. Her heavy as shit suitcase, I assume.
“It’s almost morning anyway,” Granny mutters with a sigh. “I’m going to start breakfast. We’re having pancakes. You can whip the whipped cream and stew the blueberries, or you can pan the cakes. Your choice.”
I barely stifle a groan. I guess I’m panning the cakes. Not at all how I hoped this night would end. At least in the past five minutes, at any rate. Granny obviously didn’t see us kissing, or she would have said something. Maybe she’s saving that giant lecture for me inside.