Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 55(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 55(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
“I’m sure I will.”
“Ready?” Kellen asks. It’s a loaded question.
“Yes,” I say simply because I am. I am ready for whatever is going to happen between us.
He leads me out to his car, a 1968 red Mustang. He loves this car. He and his dad restored it when he was about sixteen or seventeen. It’s gorgeous. The black leather interior and black tires make the car look amazing.
He puts me into the passenger seat and moves around the car and gets into the driver’s seat. I scoot into the middle and lean on him as he peels out onto the road and heads in the opposite direction of home. He runs his hand up and down my acid washed jean thigh. Slowly. I know he’s teasing me, but it feels so good.
“Where are we going?” I ask, already close to orgasm. I don’t know anything real about sex, but I read enough bodice rippers to get the gist. I know that the way I feel with his hand on my leg is just the beginning though. I want it all. I want to give everything to this man.
“My place,” he says, turning on to Main Street and going further west out of town.
“New Orleans is the other way,” I say.
“I don’t live there anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I bought a house in Porcelain Bayou.”
“You did?” I ask, sounding like a parrot.
“I hope you like it,” he says, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand left my thigh briefly to do that, but it’s back now. His hold on me is possessive and I love it.
“I’m sure I will.”
He pulls down a long driveway and comes to a stop in front of a cute house black house with a red front door. I can’t help smiling. I remember telling Kerry that I wanted my house to have a red front door because whorehouses used to have red front doors to differentiate them from more respectable establishments. Of course, I didn’t realize Kellen had been in the room at the time. He sat up from where he was lying on the couch and looked over at us, laughing. He told me I was insane. Adorable but insane.
“It’s just a starter home, but I figure we can add on to it.”
“We?” I ask cringing at the hopefulness in my voice.
“Of course, Annika.” The way he says that makes me believe that anything is possible.
“I’d like that,” I murmur, as his lips find mine again. Thank God, I’m sitting down, my legs feel like jelly. Discreetly, I pinch my forearm to make sure this is real and it’s not the hundred thousandth dream just like this that I’ve had every night for as long as I can remember.
“Come inside.”
“Okay,” I say, sliding out his door after he gets out. He takes my hand in his and leads me to the front door. After he unlocks the door and flips the switch, he surprises me by lifting me up and carrying me over the threshold like I’m his bride. God, I want to be his wife. “Put me down, Kellen. I’m too heavy for you to keep this up.” I look around the bare room. It doesn’t have personality yet.
“Shut up with that shit, baby. You’re not too heavy. You’re fucking perfect.” He nuzzles into my neck and breathes deeply. My heart aches with his sweetness and the fierceness with which he said that I was perfect. “Perfect nose. Perfect lips. Perfect ass. Perfect tits. Perfect tummy. Perfect pinky toe nails. Every fucking inch of you is perfection created by God.” God? How can I argue with that?
“Kellen?” I ask, sighing in contentment.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Kiss me.” And then he does. I get lost this kiss. I’ve never kissed anyone else. Mostly because I always knew that I was meant to be his. Nothing and no one else would do, so why waste my time and energy?
The next thing I know, I am in the bedroom and back on my feet. He pulls my t-shirt over my head and sucks in a breath. It’s the only room in the house that has furniture. A big bed takes up the entirety of one wall. There’s two dressers and two nightstands.
“Jesus.” His reverent whisper hits me in all the right places. “So beautiful.” He unhooks my front clasp bra and pulls it down my arms. It hits the floor in a whisper of fabric. I kick off my shoes and all but rip my jeans open. His hands reach in and cups my ass before pushing the denim off of my hips. I shimmy until they pool at my feel. Reaching down, I push my socks down and off while stepping out of my pants. “Take your hair down,” he growls. Immediately, I reach up and take the banana clip out of my hair and drop it on his nightstand. I shake my hair out and turn back to face him. I’ve never been gladder that I didn’t use a whole can of Aqua Net before going to the bowling alley tonight.