Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He drops my hands and grips my hips. His palms slide beneath my sweater and trace up my sides. “Yeah, but this looks complicated. What if you get stuck and I’m not here to help you?”
It’s a sweater and jeans, not the least bit complicated, but the desire in his eyes has me agreeing. “You know what? You’re right.” I lift my arms over my head and watch him intently. He swallows hard, reaching for the hem of my sweater and lifting it over my head.
He drops the fabric to his bedroom floor. His eyes are locked on my breasts, covered in my black, lacy bra. I give myself a mental high-five for choosing this bra and the matching panties that he hasn’t seen yet when I was getting dressed this morning.
He’s just staring, and I’m ready to ask him if he’s okay, but he bends his head and sucks my nipple through the lace fabric while tweaking the other between his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh.”
“You’re the best present I’ve ever unwrapped,” he breathes, moving his mouth to the other breast, giving it equal amounts of attention.
My hands move on their own and slide into his hair, holding him to me. “Ollie.” My voice is full of need.
“I had to, baby. I had to taste you. They were begging for me.” He kneels and works the button on my jeans. The zipper is next before he helps shimmy them over my hips. “Fuck,” he rasps, leaning in and placing a tender kiss on my lower abdomen. “Grab the pants, baby.”
“Wh-What?”
“The pants. Hand them to me. If I don’t cover you right this minute, I’m going to devour you, and that’s not what you promised me tonight.” He peers up at me, and I can see the desperation in his gaze. “Pants, Blake.”
“Right.” I nod, turn to grab the pants from where he tossed them on the bed, and hand them to him. He lifts one foot, then the other, and starts to pull up his pajama pants. He kisses my thighs with an audible groan before tugging up the pants to my waist and pulling on the drawstring.
When he stands, he’s noticeably hard in his gray sweatpants. “That might possibly be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“Stop.” I chuckle, swatting at his shoulder.
He takes my hand and places it over his hard length. “I have proof.” He winks, and I laugh.
“Give me that shirt, you flirt.”
“Only with you, baby.” He reaches around me, grabs his T-shirt, and pulls it over my head. “You're covered, but I can still see you.” He taps his temple. “It’s locked here forever.” He bends and hauls me over his shoulder and turns to walk out of the room. “Hit the light, baby,” he says, stopping by the door.
Lifting my head, I hit the light switch as he carries me back to the living room. He manages to sit on the couch and pull me into his lap at the same time. Reaching behind us, he pulls a throw blanket off the back of the couch that was never there before. He wraps it around us and hands me the remote.
“Pick something.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Doesn’t matter. I won’t be watching it.”
“What?” I turn my head to look at him.
“I’ll be watching you.”
I melt at his words, knowing they’re not just words, they’re facts. Oliver Thompson doesn’t do or say anything he doesn’t mean to say or do.
“I might pick a Christmas movie.”
“I don’t care, baby. I got what I wanted.” His arms tighten around my waist a little.
I pick a random holiday movie from his streaming service and toss the remote to the end table.
“Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a Christmas tree in my living room?”
“Oh, I bought it for you.”
“I thought that was for your mom?”
“Well, I decided you needed it more. Really livens the place up, don’t you think?” I hold my breath, waiting for his grumpiness to appear.
“You liven the place up, Blake. Stand for a minute.”
I do as he asks, my heart sinking. I’m certain he’s going to unplug the tree and tell me to take it with me. Instead, he lies down on the couch and pats the space in front of him.
“Come on, baby. You’re missing your movie, and my arms are empty.”
I open my mouth to ask him how he feels about the tree but decide against it. He’s not going to grump, and I’m not going to complain about a Christmas movie and snuggles from him.
I can’t remember a more perfect day.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Oliver
If you had told me six months ago that I’d be here, I’d have laughed in your face. If you’d also told me that I’d be the most relaxed I’d been in years, that too would have resulted in laughter.
However, here I am with my back against the arm of the couch, my legs propped up on the coffee table, with Blakely lying on my chest, her legs stretched out on the couch, and you guessed it, we’re watching another Christmas movie.