Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I arch into him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. Every point of contact between us burns, and I can’t get enough. His lips trail down my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that makes me gasp.
“God, the sounds you make,” he murmurs against my skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Bridger...” His name comes out somewhere between a warning and a plea.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and what I see there makes my heart stumble. There’s desire, yes, but something else too. Something that looks dangerously close to—
“No,” he cuts me off, his voice low and raw. “No more interruptions.”
He leans in, and the rest of my protest melts away the moment his lips claim mine again. Our tongues tangle and teeth scrape. A groan works its way free from him as my arms slip around his neck to pull him closer.
One hand falls from my cheek before drifting down my breasts and rib cage.
He pulls away long enough to mutter, “Have I mentioned how fucking hot you look in that outfit?”
“I think—”
He swallows up the rest of my response as his hand slips beneath the band of my skirt and into my panties. I whimper when he grazes my clit before sliding two fingers deep inside my core.
“Already wet for me, huh?”
He nips my lower lip as he pumps in and out of my pussy. His eyes remain locked on mine, intent and hungry, as if he’s determined to catch every fleeting emotion that crosses my face. The intensity of his gaze only deepens the intimacy we’re sharing.
We don’t break eye contact as I find my release. He continues to stroke me the entire time. It’s only when he’s wrung every drop that my knees weaken.
His fingers are still buried deep inside me when he says, “I’m willing to bet your pussy tastes just as sweet as your mouth.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
His teeth flash in the darkness that has fallen as he withdraws from my body before bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them deep into his mouth. Arousal floods his eyes as more wetness leaks from me.
It’s only when he licks them clean that he says, “I was right. Just as sweet.”
Before I can come up with a pithy response, my phone buzzes with an incoming message. I groan, remembering that Bridger invited himself on a double date with Mom and her new boyfriend.
“Think it’s Mama Tate?”
“Stop calling her that,” I say with a snort. “But, yeah, it probably is.”
“Should we check to see what she has to say?”
“Just so you know, you’ve officially ruined this moment.”
His lips tremble with a smile as he smacks another kiss against my mouth and slips his hand into the pocket of my jacket before pulling out my phone and glancing at the screen.
“You’re right, it’s Mama Tate.”
“Pretty sure she doesn’t want you calling her that,” I can’t help but point out.
He refocuses on my cell. Maybe if I still weren’t in an orgasmic haze, I’d swipe it away from him.
“Hmmm. You’re not password protected? That’s surprising. I would have expected a higher level of security from you.”
“Maybe that’s because nosy fake boyfriends have never been a problem in the past.”
His gaze dips to my lips. “In case you haven’t noticed, muffin, things have changed.”
“Apparently so.”
When he continues to stare, I clear my throat. “What does Mom have to say? Has she taken pity on me and decided to cancel? Something came up with Jigsaw? Puzzle night at the club trumps dinner with her only kid?”
“You wish.”
“Truth.”
He glances at the screen and sums up the message. “Your mom wants to know if she can finally post about her baby girl and her new boyfriend.”
“Oh God.” I drop my head into my hands. “Look what you started.”
His laugh is warm. “Want me to field that one too? I don’t mind.”
“Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?”
“Please, Tate. I haven’t even started yet.” There’s a pause. “Think she’ll regale me with embarrassing childhood stories?”
“I really fucking hope not.”
His grin turns wicked. “Or how about baby pictures? Think I’ll get to ooh and aah over some of those?”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
“Probably.” He leans closer before brushing his lips across mine. “But at least it’ll be entertaining.”
Mom’s texts keep flooding in, each one more excited than the last. Bridger continues to read them, his quiet laughter washing over me, making my lips twitch. I can’t help but wonder exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.
But as I stare into his eyes, I’m finding it harder to remember why that’s necessarily a bad thing.
28
Bridger
If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be sitting on a wobbly diner stool in a podunk bar in the middle of nowhere, waiting to meet Holland Tate’s mother and her biker boyfriend, I’d have laughed them out of the room.