Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He looks down at my hand touching his and then up into my eyes. “Good point.”
After we climb out of the car, he offers me his hand again. Each time feels like a big moment. There’s this weird energy between us since, technically, we’re not involved romantically. There’s also something—Can I think it?—magical about how easy it feels. Natural.
I squeeze his hand, feeling his warmth as we walk toward the deeper darkness of the trees. Twigs crunch beneath our feet as we stick to the path, snippets of stars and moonlight shining our way.
“For somebody never accused of being romantic, you sure picked a good spot,” I say. “Or maybe you’ve found the perfect place to bury me!”
Okay. Bad joke. He spins and glares down at me. His ordinarily stoic eyes are suddenly wild with emotion. “Don’t even joke about that,” he grunts.
“Okay, sorry.”
He sighs tiredly. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just not funny.
Well, this is a pretty serial-killerish spot, I almost say, but honestly, I’m touched by how offended he is by the very suggestion.
“Shall we keep going?” I ask.
He squeezes my hand. “Sure.”
The park is peaceful, with critters chirping from the brush. Soon, we emerge from the trees into a clearing. Matt leads me to a bench, and we sit down.
“Look up,” he says in a husky voice that sends tingles dancing all over me.
The stars are so much clearer out here, not quite as clear as outside the city. Yet there’s enough darkness for a gorgeous sky to beam down on us. Matt wraps his arm over my shoulder. He does it slowly, almost nervously, like he expects me to move away from him, but I don’t.
If I were feeling melodramatic, I’d even think I can’t. Instead, I do what feels natural. I move closer to him and rest my head against his shoulder. He hugs me even closer.
“You keep proving the whole not-romantic thing wrong,” I murmur.
“Maybe you just bring it out in me. Wait, you’ve got a twig in your hair.”
“I do?”
I look up as he gently removes it, then slides his hand through my hair again. His big hand is surprisingly tender as he takes a bunch of my hair—not grabbing it, more holding it in place—and stares into my eyes. Deeply. It’s like he’s never stared at anybody before.
“You’re so beautiful, Bella,” he groans, almost like he wishes it wasn’t that way, almost like he resents me for it, knowing this will end badly, and he’d rather not get started to begin with. Maybe I’m letting the moment flood me with too much emotion. My thoughts skip from place to place.
“Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
“Good,” he growls, leaning down.
Time slows as I try to figure out what he means. Why would that be a good thing? So that nobody else can call me beautiful? Because he wants me all to himself?
Be in the moment.
Our lips touch. Lust- and warmth-filled music swell inside me with notes even more beautiful than the greatest symphony. He groans through the kiss, sliding his hands down my body. I grab his shoulders and hug closer to him, scared to end the kiss in case I realize what I’m doing and let nerves get involved.
He pushes firmer against me, his hand on my leg, my bare thigh. My body buzzes and sizzles. I try to stop myself and tell him we can’t do that here. Maybe tell him why, too.
Then he pushes his tongue into my mouth, and I can’t think about anything else. Just the sensation of our tongues stroking together, eagerly finding each other. His hand slips higher and higher up my leg, under the hem of my dress, and then he keeps going.
“Ah,” I moan and then quickly kiss him again.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think …
When he breaks off the kiss, I think he realizes he’s gone too far, but then he looks around. He’s making sure nobody can see us.
Kissing me again, he slides his hand to my underwear. He presses his down firmly, making my core ache and my clit throb with pleasure. He pushes his palm against me, rubbing up and down, smearing my wetness all over myself.
The tingles are insane now, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I shift my hips with him entirely on instinct, not even having to think about it. It’s the bubbling tension in me directing my movements. I never thought lust was going to feel this natural. Then again, I never imagined a Matt DeLuca before.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me. So hot. So perfect.”
He gently pushes my underwear aside. When his finger brushes against my core, I let out a moan. I can’t keep it inside. I don’t think it will be loud, but the silence of the park makes it dominate the whole area.
“That makes me so hard,” he snarls. “The way you moan … It’s music.”