Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Mitchell faced her and stepped into her space, cutting off all view of anything but his wide chest and that harshly angled face. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.” She ran her fingers up the zipper of his coat. “You’re extremely gifted in that area, Mitchell Anderson. It would be no hardship for me to indulge and allow you to claim that I help you relax.” Hope smiled up at him.
He shifted against her, pressing the hard length of him into her belly. Settling his hands on either side of her, he grunted.
“You know,” he said, his voice a tease of the passion to come. “When that snow goes down my neck, I’m throwing you over the rail into the rest of it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She licked her lips, noting how he tracked the motion. “You’re caging me in a corner. My hands are on your chest.” She patted said chest, proving a point.
“I played in the NBA, Flykra, I know what’s going on around me at all times. Situational awareness.” He brushed a light kiss along her lips before he spun and snatched David up off the ground, making the snow fall from his hands into her face.
“I’m sorry, Hope,” David called. “I was trying to get him.”
Laughter burst out of her and she didn’t even try to control it. “That’s okay, David. We’ll just have to get him now.” She scooped some up from the rail and put it in Mitchell’s face.
As he sputtered, she tried to jog by him, but even though his eyes were closed, he grasped her wrist, effectively halting her. “Oh no, Flykra. I warned you what would happen.”
That rumble of his went directly through her bloodstream to her clit. Hope fought the urge to rub her thighs together. “I didn’t see any go down your neck. It went in your face.”
His black leather glove finally moved from his face and she sucked a harsh breath at the intensity of his gaze. Amusement. Lust. Hunger. All mingling together.
“And you’re going into the snow.”
Hope held up her hands, shaking her head. “Now, Mitchell. Let’s not be rash here. We’re adults.”
He shook his head, sending droplets of water from his hair onto her. “Right now? I’m pretty much a kid.” He lifted her up. “One who is going to make good on his promise.” Mitchell carried her along the porch and she squirmed in his arms. “I’m not going to drop you until I have you where I want you.”
“What if you drop me and there’s something hard beneath me.”
He paused by an open spot that had snow up to the railing. “You had something hard beneath you all night and you survived fine.”
She opened her mouth and screamed as he launched her over the rail and into the deep pile of snow.
…
Hours later, Hope made her way down the stairs of the inn, amazed and more than a bit saddened that her time here had come to an end. They’d waited for the plows to make it through and now it was time to leave. There was a thread of excitement that they were no longer stranded here, but she couldn’t ignore the underlying sadness.
Sure, the circumstances had been unorthodox—the weather tossing them all together—but hell, she’d never forget the time…or the people. Waving goodbye to Naomi, she stepped outside. The air took her breath away but now there was no more sun offsetting the chill. If anything, it was colder now than earlier.
She walked down the steps to those gathered. David and his father had left, already on their way home, having said goodbye earlier. She’d watched Mitchell on one knee, speaking with the child, giving him all his attention. Damn it, that had kicked her hyperactive ovaries into a higher gear.
Now, it was her, Mitchell, Wendy, Sonya, Erick, and Alistair. Exhaust puffed from the vehicles, which were warming up on the cold night.
Wendy bounced up to her after using her hip to bump the door closed on her green and white Mini Cooper, Petey. She slid her arm around Hope, resting her head on her shoulder. Hope smiled as she gazed around.
She’d been so right; the inn was stunning at night. The yellow lights from inside spilled out warmth on the snowy landscape, welcoming people without saying a word.
For a child who’d lived in the system and hadn’t really had any place to call home for herself—other than the room she’d had as a child—this spot, she was going to miss. This inn and the time she’d spent here meant more to her than the infrequent stays in the studio apartment she rented in Atlanta.
She had no real ties to the area, other than she’d gone to university in Florida and had come up to Atlanta at the behest of her mentor, Professor Karl Jones, for her first real job in the field. She’d never left. With the international airport there, it was easy enough for her to get to the locations she needed to reach in her travels as a well-known science journalist.