Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
She looks up at me, her eyes bright and magnetic.
This is the perfect moment to kiss her. But if I do that, can I just kiss her? Will I take it further?
She turns away, and the moment passes. Damn.
“What sort of performances do you do?” I ask. “What are your poems about?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise. Forget Guardian Angel. You’re a Guarded Angel. You’ve always got your shield up.” I nudge her with a toothy grin. “See what I did there?”
She tries to hold back, squeezing her lips together, but then the laughter escapes.
“Okay, you got me, but only because it was so corny.”
“A laugh is a laugh,” I say with a shrug.
“My poems are… depressing. About something that happened when I was a kid, mostly. I don’t want to ruin the mood.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Of course, you don’t,” she grumbles cutely.
“Am I missing something?”
“You’re Mr. Serious.”
“I don’t have to be serious all the time,” I say, passion burning in my voice as I give in to my desire, let my hand slip down her body and over her hip. I grab her fleshiness greedily, massaging her, staring into her eyes.
She gazes up at me, looking shocked and excited, like she can’t decide which mood to settle on, her poetic mind clashing, her lust tempting her.
She settles her hand on my chest and squeezes, her fingernails scraping against my shirt. “What do you think you’re doing, doctor?”
“You really don’t know how irresistible you are, do you? How beautiful you are?”
I grab her other hip, greedily holding her in both my hands.
“I…” She looks down as if suddenly afraid. “I…”
CHAPTER 9
TORI
Atouch shouldn’t be able to do this.
His hands press warmly through my shirt, burning against my skin, the sensation sizzling all over me as I try to tell myself this is exactly what I wanted—a casual hookup with a man who makes me wet with excitement.
When he tells me I’m perfect, though, suddenly, it’s like I need to hit the brakes. I care too much. Well, not care. Come on, Tori. Be honest. Okay. I care. It means something, this dashing doctor telling me I’m irresistible. The meaning amplifies when he glides his hand around to the small of my back, inching toward my ass.
I squeeze my legs together as my sex aches, my clit throbbing like I’m going to, you know, right here, without him even touching me. I can’t let somebody have this much power over me. Am I overthinking it? Probably.
My hand tightens against his chest. His muscles press against me like they’re going to snap my fingernails.
“You’re not going to tell me you don’t want this.” His voice is a husky drawl.
“Don’t talk like you can read my mind,” I snap.
“I don’t need to read your mind when I can read your body.”
He pulls me closer. I gasp, then shut my mouth. This is all becoming very ‘swept off my feet,’ and I can’t let that happen.
“I’m not going to sleep with you on this beach, smart guy.”
He leans down. As we stare into each other’s eyes, suddenly, Valentine’s Day doesn’t seem so silly. His lips brush close to mine, a tempting taste, but the feeling of powerlessness stops me again. He can’t be in charge.
I’ll be left a crumpled mess like Mom. Struggling to make sense of what happened, crippled with emotional whiplash.
I push myself away while I still can before the heat reaches a tipping point. In my head, Cleo is watching me judgmentally, annoyed that I wouldn’t just give myself to him.
My body feels pretty bothered by it, too. My heart is pounding hard; my inner thighs are aching, my lips tingling like some primal part of me is anticipating the kiss.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, taking my hands as I create some distance between us.
“I’m sure I’m not much more beautiful than your last girl.”
A tremble moves through his hulking body. For a tiny moment, I’m terrified—not that I think he’s going to hurt me. It’s how protective and intense he becomes. I want more of it. Badly.
I need to be careful.
“There wasn’t a last girl,” he snaps.
I smile and laugh. See? Keeping it casual is back on the menu. “You don’t really expect me to believe that.”
I let go of one of his hands, and turn, intent on walking again. He pauses for a moment, my right hand in his, like he’s not going to let me. Like instead, he’ll pull me toward him, crush our bodies together, and let me feel those hulking muscles again.
Stubbornly, I pull away and walk on, ignoring my desires. Why? Cleo challenges in my head. Just throw yourself at him!
“Do you?” I go on. “You can’t expect me to believe you’re some chaste monk who stays away from women.”
“I’ve been waiting for the right woman.” He looks at me meaningfully when I turn to look at him.