Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
His hand gripped my jaw, fingers splaying over my throat in a tight grip as he turned my head toward the sinks, then pressed the thumb of his other hand to my clit. “I want you to watch,” he said as our gazes locked in the mirror.
Holy shit. He was filthy, and I loved everything about it. He went harder. His attention drifting from our reflection to where our bodies connected.
“You’re almost there, aren’t you,” he said, his breath ragged.
“Yeah.”
“Come on my cock like a good girl.” The pressure he had around my throat increased as his pace quickened.
After one more long, deep thrust, every sordid need inside me detonated. Muscles coiled. Heat spread like nuclear fallout through my veins, and I grabbed his biceps to steady myself as I came. A string of profanity-laced moans slipped from my lips, echoing through the empty restroom. The next few thrusts bordered on painful, and I fought not to back away from him. Then he stilled.
“Fuck.” He buried himself so deep I gasped. “Fuck!” Then his head dropped to my shoulder, his breaths ragged.
And now came the awkward. What was I supposed to say to a man who had just nailed me up against a restroom door, giving me an orgasm I thought was going to send me straight to Jesus? Thanks? No, not thanks.
“Well…” I dropped my leg to the floor. “That was fun.”
Laughing, he pressed a breathless kiss to the side of my neck. “You’re right, babe. You are kind of bad at dirty talk. And I kind of like it.”
Chapter Nineteen
BLAKE
I’d always rolled my eyes when heroes in romance novels slammed a girl against the wall and warned, in a deep, gruff voice, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days when you sit down.” Well, I’d never roll my eyes again because I’d felt Vance with each step I’d taken in the hour since he’d done just that.
I stood between a men’s boutique named Lo Uomo and a giftshop, eating the best dulce de leche gelato of my life while Googling if it was possible to become addicted to a person. As it turned out, it was.
I licked the last remnants of melted gelato from my finger just as the tiny jingle of the bell over the boutique door sounded and Vance stepped out in a pair of shorts. His dark hair was still messy from where I’d run my hands through it. Two women to the side of the shop glanced at him, and I fought the urge to scream, “Yeah, I just banged that in the Vatican.” Okay, not really fought the urge, but the idea of it had crossed my mind.
He stopped in front of me and kissed me. “Mm. Dulce de leche.”
I grabbed his pocket, tugging him closer for another kiss. “Tell me you kept the kilt?”
“I fucked you in that kilt. It’s my souvenir.” He slipped his arm around my waist. “Speaking of souvenirs…” He fished in his pocket, then held up a fork with a bowl of bolognese engraved on the handle. “Thought you might like that. Maybe it could go with your spoon.”
Smiling, I took it from his grasp. Who knew a fork could make a girl so happy? “You’re kind of cute.”
The loud chime of church bells rang out. I ducked when a flock of pigeons roosting on the fountain in the center of the square took off, flying straight at me.
Vance laughed. “They weren’t anywhere close to you.”
“My biggest fear is one of them just smacking me in the head some day.”
His phone alarm went off, and he slid his backpack from his shoulder to search through the front pocket. “A bird is not going to fly into your face.”
“It’s me we’re talking about. Nothing regarding pigeons is impossible.”
He took out his phone. “I’m just going to text her. She’s supposed to go get her hair done today.”
“It’s really cute that you know that.”
Smiling, he sent a text, then pocketed his phone.
“You miss her?”
“Of course. After my dad passed away, she and my grandad raised me. She makes the best fried chicken. Very Alabama. I’ll take you back home with me sometime so you can taste it.”
That… that sounded serious. Beat by beat, my heart rate ticked up as we continued along the sidewalk, past leather shops and pizzerias. We’d gone from enemies to lovers in a matter of days. Although I had known him for half a year. I bit the inside of my cheek as we sank to the concrete edge of the fountain. Because I was trying to rationalize every bit of this insanity. So what if it crashed and burned once we got back to New York? At the very least, when I got older, I’d have a great story to regale the other gray-haired ladies within the nursing home. That one time in Europe…