Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
This time, I’m planning it out in my head, thinking about it, even wanting it. His kiss, maybe more, maybe a lot more, like what he promised.
Will he be gentle or take my mouth powerfully? Will he push me against the counter or simply sip at me where I stand? Cup my jaw or let his hands trace down to my hip? Is he going to grab my ass the way he did when he had me against the door? That had nearly been my undoing, and I swear I felt the scalding mark of his touch for hours after that because it had been a sharp reminder of just how long it’d been since someone had touched me that way.
I part my lips, a tiny breath passing over them as I make my decision and surrender to my body’s needs, even if only for a moment.
So I’m blindsided when he scratches at his bottom lip with his thumb and says, “Uh, I should probably get going. Peanut Butter’s gonna wonder if I’ve ditched him for another dog.”
“Oh!” I exclaim, disappointment flooding through me, which is immediately followed by something more familiar—anger. I’m mad at myself for having a moment of weakness, because even if Kyle didn’t take me up on it, he knows what I’m thinking. I’m sure it’s written all over my face. I step back, putting distance between us well beyond the two feet of space I add. “I didn’t even think about…”
He shrugs easily, but his usual smile is missing and his eyes haven’t moved from where they’re locked on mine. “All good. He’s probably getting spoiled as fuck at my brother’s house. Not eating as good as I did” —he looks at me pointedly, making sure I hear the compliment again— “but his boiled chicken and sweet potato puree is nothing to sneeze at.”
He moves toward his wallet, and I put a hand on his forearm. “No, I don’t want your money anymore. If we’re not enemies—”
“Friends,” he corrects.
“Maybe-friends,” I concede, “don’t hold it against each other when they get a little temperamental, so you don’t owe me anything.”
He smiles, seeming pleased at my generosity. “Your call.”
But then he cocks his head, one brow lifted and suggests, “Maybe-friends can hold other things against each other, though, like their bodies.” He says it lightly, with zero heat, but a jolt of desire shoots through me, anyway.
But my moment of weakness has passed and I laugh. “Is that all you think about? Guys are such horndogs.”
He ducks his chin, feigning shyness even though he’s nothing of the sort. Through his lashes, he looks up at me and drawls out, “Usually, I’m not. I think about all kinds of things—work, my dog, my crew, my family. Lately? You’re front and center in my mind—what you’re doing, who you’re doing it with, if you’re mad at me, if you even noticed whether I’m next door. And yeah, I think about that kiss, how you tasted, and wonder how sweet you are in other places. I think about turning the fire inside you into an inferno and wonder if you fuck as good as you fight.” He leans forward, getting his cheek as close to mine as he can across the space I now regret adding, and whispers, “’Cuz I do, Dani.”
My breath hitches, and I swear my pussy starts celebrating, hopeful to finally get some dick that’s worth a damn.
When he stands up tall again, his grin is full of wicked promises.
I should probably be offended, or at least act like I am, but I can’t fight the answering smile that steals across my face. “Let’s start with you not owing me Joshua’s daily rate and see from there.”
“Deal,” he replies.
I walk him to the door, and this time when he pulls away from the curb out front, I don’t flip him off or curse him in my head. I wave goodbye.
CHAPTER 12
KYLE
Fuck. Fuck.
I slam my palm to the steering wheel of my truck, the one I had to rush home to get because as awesome as Peanut Butter is, he can’t ride on my motorcycle. That detour has put me arriving even later at my brother and sister-in-law’s place in the suburbs. And I was already going to be late.
Cole used to have a place downtown, with an office below and a fancy as shit apartment upstairs. Well, he technically still has that building and uses it as his homebase for his work as a high-level private investigator, but when he fell in love with Janey, he somehow morphed from a quiet lone wolf sort who would drift in and out of town and our lives at will into a suburban, picket fence around a mowed yard type. I mean, he’s still weird as fuck and the little house I’m pulling up to is quietly wired for surveillance like it houses national defense secrets, but that’s because Cole would do anything to protect Janey, especially when he’s traveling, like he is now.