Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
That Regan’s dead now.
Daniel finishes tying one side of my jacket and then the other as I watch him move. He’s got long eyelashes, and a strong jaw, and he’s . . . really attractive.
I wonder briefly what it would be like to kiss him. Really kiss him. It might be Stockholm syndrome speaking, but that can’t possibly be any worse than what I’ve already been through. And suddenly, I’m curious.
If I kiss Daniel, will it be like kissing men at the brothel? Will I want to vomit if his mouth touches mine? Or will it be . . . Daniel? The man with a pretty mouth who desperately wants me in his bed and won’t touch me because he knows I have Issues, with a capital I.
I lick my lips, thinking.
“What?” Daniel asks, and I realize he’s looking at me again.
I’m suddenly nervous. I step a little closer to him and put my hand to one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt. “Can I . . . can I try something?”
“Shoot.” He’s watching me warily, but he doesn’t move away.
I stand up on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his. He stiffens, and I part my lips, letting my tongue graze his mouth. I feel absolutely nothing. I might as well be kissing a stone for all that he participates, and after a moment, I pull away, frowning. “Why aren’t you kissing me back?”
“I’m trying to figure out your angle.”
For some reason, that hurts my feelings. I lower my heels and try not to feel stupid. “I wanted to kiss you and see if it was like kissing guys at the brothel. If it’d be different because it’s you. Or if everything’s totally ruined.”
He groans and closes his eyes, then presses his forehead to mine. His hand cups the back of my head. “You’re killing me, Regan. You know that, right?”
“I’m sorry,” I say in a small voice.
“Shh. Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. If you want a kiss, I’ll oblige you. You have some shit timing is all.” He glances at the closed door behind us, then shrugs and turns back to me. “A kiss. Nothing more, though. You’re not ready, and I can’t afford a distraction. All right?”
“That works. I just want to see . . .” I trail off without finishing the sentence because it can’t really end in a great way.
I just want to see if I’m broken.
I just want to see if I’m really fucked up in the head.
I just want to see if you taste good.
I just want to see if I’ll puke.
“Okay. No pouncing, though. You ready?” His hand touches my cheek. “Feel free to push me away at any time if you freak out.”
I nod.
Daniel leans in, and his nose brushes mine as his face angles in. I start to close my eyes because every kiss is usually better that way, but I worry that if I close them, I’ll see the wrong faces. So I keep them open as his mouth carefully grazes mine. His lips move gently over mine, and then he’s sucking at my lower lip, kissing me with careful presses of his lips against my mouth.
He’s so tender that I’m surprised. I expected Daniel to be all talk and no finesse, but the man kissing me is infinitely gentle. His eyes are closed, as if kissing me right is the only thing that matters at the moment.
And . . . I’m not hating it. That’s good.
He continues to press soft kisses to my mouth, and I let him, exploring my feelings. I’m not grossed out and I don’t want to vomit. If anything, I wish he’d kiss me a little harder. Mike was never a big kisser; he only wanted to do it if it’d get him somewhere, and I’d accepted that. But Daniel . . . I suspect Daniel could kiss a girl for hours to watch how it affects her.
The thought sends a shiver through my body.
Daniel’s mouth continues to nuzzle mine. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” I breathe against his lips.
“You want tongue?”
Oh God. For some reason, I find it arousing that he’d ask me. Like it’s all totally my call. He’s only giving me what I ask for, and that makes him safe. So I breathe out a quiet, “Yes,” and wait for the kiss to change.
A moment later, Daniel’s mouth opens wider against mine and his tongue brushes against my closed lips, seeking entrance. I part and let him in, tensing as I wait for the invasive feeling to return, for the sickness and revulsion.
But his tongue only gently laps against my own, coaxing me. It’s as if he’s asking me if I want to play. And I realize that I do. I bury my fingers in the front of his shirt. And I kiss him back.