Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
I slowly reach out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. My fingertips graze her soft skin in the process, and I find myself fighting a groan. Fucking hell. She is as soft as I imagined.
"Maybe I'm flirting with you because you've got my cock throbbing," I murmur, my voice a soft purr. "And maybe not all firefighters are assholes who jump into bed with every gorgeous woman they come across. Just so we're clear, you'll be the first since I was eighteen." I pause. “And of the two, you’ll be the only one I don’t regret.”
Her gaze flies to mine, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Yeah," I growl, holding her stare. "I said what I said."
"I... I..." she stutters, the adorable, flustered sound tugging at my heart. Fucking hell. She’s sweet as pie. And I’ve never wanted to taste anything nearly as badly as I want to taste her right now.
I lean in closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "But we aren't there yet, Heidi."
As much as I’d love to sweep her into my arms and carry her to bed to get acquainted with every inch of that delectable body, I’m not a complete fucking idiot. She’s known me for all of fifteen minutes. And I don’t even have to ask to know she isn’t the kind of girl who jumps into bed with a man in fifteen minutes. She may not believe it, but I’m not that kind of man, either.
I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to get to know her—every little thing there is to know about her. I’m interested in her. Not her body. Her.
She squeezes her eyes shut, inhaling deeply as if trying to gather her composure. When she opens them again, determination shines in their depths. "Your dog, Alessandro," she whispers, her breath warm against my cheek. "You came for your dog."
"Mmhmm." I pull back slightly, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "But I'm not leaving until you agree to go to dinner with me."
"Can't. Sorry." She shakes her head, silky strands of hair bouncing around her face. "I have things to do."
"Like what?" I growl, not ready to let her off the hook so easily.
She narrows her eyes, a hint of sass returning. "Did you forget that your dog ate my kolaches? Because I didn't forget." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I have to start the recipe completely over. After I finish cleaning my entire kitchen." She tips her head back, scowling up at me. "That's your fault, by the way."
I smile, amused by her fiery attitude. She wields it like armor, hiding behind it. But I see right through it. "Yeah? How is that my fault, angel?" I ask, mirroring her stance with my arms crossed over my chest.
She opens her mouth to respond, then snaps it shut. With a dramatic flourish, she flings an arm toward Rivin, who's still passed out on the couch, blissfully unaware of the chaos he's caused. Like fucking usual. I swear, the damn dog can sleep through anything.
"He broke into my house, Alessandro," she growls.
"You can't really blame him for wanting to be over here. It smells fucking amazing." I’m only partially teasing her. The scent of warm, sweet pastries permeates the air, making my mouth water. If her food tastes as good as it smells, it’s no wonder he broke in. Everyone in town feeds the menace, but they don’t feed him anything that smells this good.
My comment seems to rile her up even more.
She splutters and then launches into a passionate tirade about the kolaches, gesturing wildly as she speaks. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t hear a word she says. I’m too busy watching the way her eyes flash and her cheeks flush. My fucking cock presses painfully against my zipper, precum leaking into my boxers.
Jesus, she’s even more beautiful when she’s fired up. Will she be just as passionate when I’m inside her, fucking my kids into her?
"I'm sorry about the kolaches, Sunshine," I say, trying to placate her when she finally takes a breath. "But he's a dog. Dogs don't always have manners."
She rolls her eyes at me, clearly not impressed by my attempt at an apology. "Yeah, well, what if I'd used garlic or onion or something he couldn't have?" she asks, her voice rising with each word. "Did you think about that? He could have been hurt!"
My eyes widen as her words sink in. Shit, I hadn't thought of that. And then the rest of her statement registers.
"Hold the fuck on," I growl, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Let me get this straight. You're not pissed at him because he ate the kolaches. You’re pissed at me because he broke in here and ate something that could have hurt him?"