Taste – Cloverleigh Farms Read Online Melanie Harlow

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Melanie Harlow Advertisement

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But I didn’t push start.

Instead, I sat there looking at the door to room thirteen, thinking about the woman on the bed inside, and the night we’d just spent together. There wasn’t a thing about it I would change, and my only regret was that it would never happen again.

Unless . . .

I frowned. No, I couldn’t. That was too mean, too duplicitous, even for me. If she ever found out I’d kept her here against her will for a whole extra night, she’d never forgive me.

But she would never have to know, said an evil, horny little voice in my head. And you’d give her lots and lots of delicious orgasms. You could make dinner for her too—just walk over to the gas station and grab a few groceries. She deserves a night that’s just about her. You could make her feel so fucking good.

I caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. No. It was wrong.

Despicable, even. We’d just reached a place that felt like friendship—we’d confided in each other. We’d aired the grievances. We’d made peace with the past and with what happened last night.

Mmm, what happened last night.

Suddenly I had a visceral memory of her naked body beneath me, of her hands in my hair, of the way she moved and kissed and tasted. I recalled how she told me to slow down, how she swiveled her hips over mine, how her orgasm had wrung every last drop from me as her pussy clenched my cock again and again.

Jesus—I opened my eyes and realized I was breathing heavily, and my dick had grown hard. I grimaced and gripped the steering wheel. If we stayed another night, could I possibly get her back in the mood?

I looked out the windows. The snowfall hadn’t abated, and the roads would still be terrible, making the drive unsafe. I took out my phone and checked the radar—the storm wouldn’t let up until early tomorrow morning, and it was three o’clock already.

So really, staying one more night was the responsible thing to do, right? And as long as I could get her back by her first tasting tomorrow, which was usually at eleven, she might not even be mad. In fact, she might prefer the safer drive. She’d probably even thank me if she knew how protective I was being. She’d liked it when I said I’d always have her back, right? That’s what this was. I was keeping her safe.

Of course, that was total bullshit, and I just wanted her to myself for one more night, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, if she ever found out the truth and hated my guts for the rest of our lives, so be it. I had the feeling it would be worth it.

And really, what was my crime—wanting to be alone with her so badly I was willing to lie for it?

With my mind made up, I got out of the car, strapped into my snowshoes, and set off down the road to the gas station.

TWELVE

ELLIE

When I woke up, I was disoriented. The surroundings were unfamiliar—the room didn’t smell like home, the bed didn’t feel like mine, and the total silence was strange.

I sat up and blinked. The room was gloomy and cold and unfamiliar, but as my eyes wandered left to right—the kitchenette, the knotty pine walls, the buffalo plaid drapes pulled across the window—the memories filled in.

I wasn’t home—I was at the Pineview Motel with Gianni. We’d spent the night together. But where was he now? Shivering, I made my way over to the window and peeked out.

His SUV was still buried in the snow, which blanketed everything in sight and continued to fall. The wind whistled at the windowpanes, and the neon motel sign cast an eerie glow through the white.

“Gianni?” I called, walking toward the bathroom. But the door was open, and he wasn’t in there. I checked the closet and saw that his coat was gone, as were his boots from the rug by the door. He must have walked somewhere.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I perched on the edge of the bed and listened to the howling wind, hoping Gianni was okay. Why would he leave without letting me know where he was going?

I grabbed my phone to see if he’d texted, but he hadn’t. My mother had called again, and Winnie had sent a message saying lunch had gone great, Mr. Lupo had arrived and was working with Felicity on dinner, and if anything else happened with Gianni I had to text her right away.

I plugged my phone back in and sat there biting my thumbnail. What if it got dark and he wasn’t back? What if he got lost? What would I do if he didn’t return?

I was still huddled there, my heart drumming with concern, when the door opened and Gianni came in on an icy gust of wind, several white plastic bags in his hands. He slammed the door behind him, but a bunch of snow drifted in anyway.

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