Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Yes. Yes it can.” I take a step closer and pick up his tie, winding it around my hand. “You know what I’ve been thinking about all night?”
He makes a low sound in the back of his throat. “What’s that?”
“Our conversation in the parking lot, pre-dinner.”
“And what were you thinking about that conversation?”
“That I’d like to pick up where we left off.”
“What about that drink you invited me up for?”
“We can have one later.” Say eight or so hours from now, in the form of coffee.
I tip my chin up and tug on his tie, pulling his mouth down. His lips touch mine, soft and gentle, just like last time. But unlike our first kiss, this one isn’t tentative. We tip our heads and part our lips. His velvet tongue meets mine, and I sink into him and the kiss, looping my arms around the back of his neck, melding my curves to his hard edges.
One of his arms wraps around my waist, keeping me close, and the other one cups my cheek. This kiss holds the promise of more. Of patience and decadence.
Seven years ago, I was young and inexperienced. He was grieving and full of guilt.
But now … we’re in much different places in our lives. Older, wiser, and hopefully better prepared to deal with the feelings that existed before and have been dormant all this time.
Unearthing them ignites raw desire. I moan into his mouth and press my hips into his, taking his bottom lip between my teeth and tugging before I suck the soft, plump flesh and release it. Then stroke inside his mouth again, searching for his tongue. He makes a matching, low, feral sound, and his hand on my hip travels up my side, along my arm, causing goose bumps to rise in its wake.
He takes my face in both his palms and pulls back, his fiery gaze locking on mine. “Should we be slowing this down?”
I answer his question with a question. “Do you want to slow this down?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Then no, we shouldn’t slow this down.” I try to meld our lips back together, but his hold on me tightens, two inches separating us.
His warm breath fans my face. “I’m trying to keep my head with you, Harley.”
“Why? I want to lose mine with you.” It’s blatantly, painfully honest. All the years between that almost-kiss and now seem to disappear. As if they never happened. As if time were suspended, waiting for our paths to converge again.
He huffs a laugh, and an emotion I can’t quite catch passes over his gorgeous features, before his gaze lowers to my mouth and then his lips are on mine again. This time, it isn’t gentle and patient. It’s full of pent-up emotion. Desire and need wash over me. I find the knot in his tie and tug, loosening it until I can get to the buttons underneath.
We don’t make it past the kitchen before I tug his shirt from his dress pants and work the buttons free, pushing the fabric over his shoulders and down his arms. It ends up on the floor, along with his tie and my dress.
“Fuck me,” Gavin groans when I step out of the puddle of green fabric at my feet.
His eyes sweep over me, teeth trapping his bottom lip as he takes me in. “You are an utterly delectable walking contradiction, Harley.” He picks me up by the waist like I weigh nothing and sets me on the island.
I part my knees and hook a foot around the back of his thigh, pulling him into the empty, waiting space between mine. “How do you mean?”
“You look so sweet, but you’ve got bite.” He drags a fingertip along the lace trim of my bra. “This.” He drops his head, lips finding my collarbone. “So pretty and sweet.” His lips travel up the side of my neck. “So gorgeous.”
I wrap my leg around his waist and pull him closer, one hand finding his belt buckle, the other sifting through his thick, wavy hair, gripping the strands so I can guide his mouth, bringing it back to mine.
“So assertive.” He grins against my cheek.
I turn my head and catch his bottom lip between my teeth, before I tip my head and our mouths connect again.
“There’s the bite I was talking about.” He chuckles, and then groans as I slip my hand down the front of his pants and cup him through his boxers.
He’s gloriously hard and thick.
We kiss and grope, fingers exploring, touching, coaxing moans and gasps and dirty words out of each other until we’re both naked and panting. His wallet sits beside me on the countertop. He flips it open, fumbling for a few seconds—distracted by my hand stroking his erection and my mouth nibbling a path along the edge of his jaw—until he finds the condom.