Sunday Morning (Sunday Morning #1) Read Online Jewel E. Ann

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Forbidden, New Adult Tags Authors: Series: Sunday Morning Series by Jewel E. Ann
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
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“You’ll be performing.” I watched his abs tighten under my touch.

“I’ll be watching you,” he said.

Our gazes locked as I paused my hands.

He reclined onto the bed. “Keep touching. When I’m not on that stage, I want your hands on me, like you’re blind and I’m your seeing-eye dog. Reach for me. Touch me. Feel me. Hold on to me.”

I chuckled. “You make it sound like I’m going to get abducted.” I rested my hands on his knees and slid my hands up his legs along the worn denim.

“Look at you, baby. Who wouldn’t want to take you?” He laced his fingers behind his head.

“I think you just want a free massage.” I crawled up his body and straddled his waist.

He lifted a brow before smiling. “I want absolutely anything you’re willing to give me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Twisting my lips, I thought of what I would give him.

“Idle hands must mean you’ve gotten your fill of my body.” He jackknifed to sitting.

I grabbed his arms to keep from falling backward as he shifted my center of gravity.

He stared at my lips, bringing his just inches from mine. “For the next three days, where will you be?”

“Near you.”

He shook his head.

I grinned. “Touching you.”

“Nothing can happen to you on my watch.” He kissed the corner of my mouth.

Isaac took me to lunch and then shopping. I felt like the real deal—a grown woman exploring a new city with a man she had a crush on.

I practiced staying close to him, which wasn’t hard because he usually had ahold of my hand. When he paid for my clothes or sifted through the racks for things he wanted me to try on, I stayed within inches of him and often had my fingers slid into one of his pockets or clasped to one of his belt loops.

Hours later, we returned with bags of clothes, boots, silver bangle bracelets, nail polish (which I rarely wore), and a gorgeous cream cowboy hat.

“What should I wear tonight?” I asked when we stepped into the motel room with my new wardrobe.

“The blue dress.” He tossed his hat aside and collapsed onto the bed.

“Is it okay if I shower first, or do you want to?”

“Have at it,” he mumbled.

I pulled the dress out of the bag, removed the tags, and carried it to the bathroom with my clean underwear and bra.

“What are you doing?” he asked, lifting onto his elbows.

“Um, taking a shower.”

“With your dress?”

“Duh. Of course not.”

“Then leave it out here.”

“Because you want to see me naked?” I squinted.

“I’ve seen you naked.”

“No. You’ve seen me in my underwear and bra.”

“I’ve seen your tits.”

I blushed. Isaac’s bluntness was an adjustment for the girl who never missed church.

“You’ve seen one”—I cleared my throat—“nipple.”

“I bet the other one looks really similar.” He winked.

“You’re a perv.”

“You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands off me earlier.”

“Shut up!” I laughed.

“Go.” He flopped back down onto the bed. “I’ll see it later.”

“In your dreams.” I closed the bathroom door and locked it.

“Come on, Sunday Morning, where’s the trust?”

I laughed.

After my shower, I emerged from the bathroom in my blue dress and a towel around my head. Isaac was asleep with his hands folded on his chest. I stole a moment to stare at him. He took gorgeous to a whole new level.

I combed out my hair and dried it a second time with the towel. I didn’t have a hairdryer because I shared one with my sisters, and my family thought I was camping where I wouldn’t need one anyway. Sitting next to the nightstand, facing Isaac’s bed, I applied my dark purple nail polish. Just as I finished and capped the bottle, Isaac stirred, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

“I’m done in the bathroom,” I said.

He squinted, peeling open his eyes as he sat up. “Okay.” He stood and leaned forward.

I didn’t know if he was going to kiss me or what, but I held up my hands. “Don’t touch me; my nails are wet.”

He paused, gaze flitting between my face and hands, and he smirked. “Okay.” Standing straight, he shrugged off his shirt.

“Two okays in a row. I think I like it when you talk less and obey more.” I bit my lower lip to hide my grin.

Isaac unbuttoned his jeans. “Is that so?”

I tried not to stare at him. Instead, I inspected my shiny, wet nails. “Mm-hmm.”

Don’t react.

He removed his jeans. I still didn’t look at him, but I had good peripheral vision. In nothing but his black briefs, he stood with his back to me, digging through his camouflage duffle bag. He pulled out clean briefs and a shirt, and then he set a strip of condoms next to them before pulling out a pair of jeans.

I had a minor heart attack.

We weren’t having sex. I didn’t like sex, and I was perfectly clear about that.



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