Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
He laughs softly, a sound that seems to wrap around me like a comforting blanket, equal parts warmth and desire. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sullivan counters, his forehead leaning gently against mine. “I’m glad we’re on the same goddamn page.”
“Same page? We might be on the same paragraph or sentence,” I respond, without considering what I’m saying. “Though I’m a little fuzzy on the punctuation.”
“Well, semicolons are for when you’re not quite sure what else to use,” he jokes, his fingers caressing small soothing circles into my hips, keeping me tethered to the moment.
He kisses me again, softer this time, and my legs curl gently around him, pulling him closer. I feel the hardness of his cock pressed against my girly parts and nearly self-combust on the spot.
Every good sense I've ever had is drowning in the intoxicating pull of Sullivan's kiss. He’s standing between my spread legs, drawing me closer like gravity is a practical joke the universe is playing on us both.
Our shared oxygen is a tangible thread, weaving us together in this quiet corner of the world that’s momentarily ours. My fingers knot in his hair, dragging his lips impossibly closer. I’m pretty sure my heart’s forgotten every beat that isn't in sync with his.
Like a record scratching to a halt, there's a noise in the hallway outside the stockroom. It's nothing more than a clatter, probably just Shane grabbing bottles of liquor, but it's jarring enough to yank me from the magic of the moment.
Reality crashes through me, and panic jolts through my veins.
Abruptly, I pull away from Sullivan. His lips are warm and inviting, so it takes an enormous effort to break the connection. He's left blinking at me with those mesmerizing, blazing blue eyes, a layer of confusion quickly warming them.
"Romi..." His voice trails off as he sees the horror written all over my face.
“I’m… I'm sorry,” I stammer, the words tumbling out before they solidify in my brain. Somewhere, deep down, there's worry about jeopardizing my job, my carefully guarded heart, and every other precious thing I’ve arranged in this precarious balance.
Before he can react, I slide off the counter and cast Sullivan a hasty, apologetic glance before darting out of the stockroom, leaving him standing there, probably as bewildered as I feel.
My mind is an electric storm of thoughts, each bolt striking with enough power to split the precariously balanced composure I’m clinging to. The hallway is a blur as I race down it toward my office, frantically praying I don’t run into my boss or anyone else.
I slip inside and shut the door behind me, leaning my back against its sturdy reassurance. It's a small space filled with the comforting chaos of ledgers, order forms, and an old chair that squeaks its indignation at every slight move. Here, I’m safe from the pull of Sullivan’s allure and those damnable kisses that threaten to unravel me like a spool of thread spinning wildly out of control.
I dive headfirst into spreadsheets and schedules, anything to keep my mind from spinning back to his lips and hands. And the hardness that both scared and excited my girly parts.
Stop thinking about him, I order myself as numbers jumble and distort. The busier I stay, the less chance there is for memories to overtake me.
I imagine Sullivan out there somewhere in the bar looking for me, trying to piece together the reasons for my hasty retreat.
A part of me wants him to storm in here, demanding to know what the hell just happened, and a more terrifying part of me knows I'd probably make a fool of myself if he did.
Chapter 4
Sullivan
I'm still trying to process what just happened as I lean against the cool metal shelves in the back stockroom of Trick or Treat, panting slightly in the aftermath of the kiss that rocked my world off its axis.
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself, staring at the ceiling. A string of skeleton decorations dangles precariously, seeming to taunt me with their permanent grins. Yeah, I didn’t see that coming either.
My brain feels like it’s trying to run a hundred different calculations at once, each one more confusing than the last. I’m trying to button my shirt with shaky fingers that don’t want to cooperate. Romi is long gone. One second, she was kissing me like there’s no tomorrow, and the next, she pulled away and ran out the door like the hounds of hell were on her heels.
By the time I manage to get my clothes somewhat back in order and stumble out into the main part of the bar, it’s buzzing with costumed patrons. It feels like every witch, goblin, and what appears to be a disturbingly realistic headless horsewoman is between me and the exit. But there’s no sign of Romi.
I’m tempted to tear the bar apart to find her, but the fear of scaring her even more holds me back. I know it’s time to take a step back and plan my next move before I really fuck this up and lose my soulmate forever.