Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
He lifts the glass, knocks some back, then says in a rough, commanding tone that is clear over the song: “There’s something I meant to say in the limo.”
“What’s that?” I ask above the rising notes.
His eyes lock on mine. His jaw is set hard. His gaze, full of fire. “We’re not done.”
My pulse soars. I hustle to hit stop on the music. “What do you mean?” I ask, full of dirty hope when the Broadway stars are silent.
“I mean, we’re not fucking done at all, Juliet. I should have made this more clear in the limo.” He points to the mattress I’ve been wallowing on. “But I’m not letting you get into that bed alone.” Then to the wooden ladder. “I’m not climbing that goddamn ladder another night and sleeping six feet above you.”
“You’re not?” I ask, barely able to hold back a smile.
He’s dead serious as he growls, “I can’t take it anymore. Being this close to you and not touching. I can’t stand another second of not having my hands all over your beautiful body.”
He doesn’t even wait for me to answer. He heads to the bureau next to the door and sets down his glass before he turns back to me. “Is it the same for you?”
My throat is dry. My cheeks are hot. I nod savagely as I launch myself at him, flying across the room. “Same.” In seconds, I’m back in his arms, my hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket. “This suit.”
He lifts a brow, a cocky move. “I had a feeling you’d like it.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve always said you like suits,” he says, grabbing my hips, and manhandling me a little. I don’t mind the rough play at all.
“Have I said that?” I tap-dance my fingers up his crisp dress shirt.
“Yes. I believe your words on air the other day were, and I quote, I am a sucker for a suit.”
I fiddle with the collar, having too much fun with him again. “So you wanted me to be a sucker?”
He just grins, saying nothing, just dragging me closer. What is he holding back? More words? There are parts of Monroe I’ll never truly understand. But when he crushes his lips to mine once more, I stop thinking about the unknowableness of this man. I stop thinking entirely.
We kiss, and we grab, and we grope. Hands travel into hair, around waists, across stomachs. I kiss his neck, sighing happily when I get an up-close-and-personal hit of his soap. Shea butter and rosemary. It makes me a little woozy, and it’s not just the scent. It’s that he still uses it. Or did he start again? I’m dying to unearth hidden meanings, but what if there aren’t any?
Best to leave that alone and focus on how good it feels to touch him again. He plays with the corset, undoing one eye hook as he kisses me madly, the kind of kiss that leads straight to bed.
We’re at the door, so I flick on the lights at last. “How do you feel about lights on?”
He flashes a smile. “You don’t know.”
It’s a statement. One he sounds delighted to make. “I don’t know,” I confirm, and then I swallow and find the guts to acknowledge the thing we don’t speak of. That week. “We only slept together that one night.”
In a tent. At a nearby campground. I had roommates. He was staying with his father. We wanted to be alone, so we made our alone time happen in a tent.
His blue eyes are fiery as they travel up and down my body. “Only once. Such a shame,” he says, regretful, wistful, but aroused too. “And now, I want lights on with you. Want you to ride my cock. Want to watch you in front of me and above me. Want to see you fucking everywhere.”
I can’t breathe. My heart’s beating too fast. He’s not holding back in the bedroom department. Not one bit. Every single cell inside me is humming. I have no idea what will happen in the morning. But for once in my life, I’m not interested in planning the next date.
I want the here and now.
“We’re doing this all wrong,” I tease as I tug off his jacket.
“How do you figure?” he asks, working open my corset.
“Well, we’re supposed to be in that bed at night and accidentally touch under the covers in the dark, and then one thing would lead to another.”
He scoffs. “Fuck accidental touching. There’s nothing accidental about the way I’m going to have you. Touch you. Fuck you.”
I tremble everywhere, growing wetter with each of his plans.
He dives in for another kiss, stripping me free of my corset at last, letting it fall to the floor right as I undo the final button on his shirt then shove it off.
For a long, luscious moment we stare at each other. Half-naked. His eyes are lasered in on my tits, and mine are keyed in on his firm chest, then his trim abs, then the grooves between them, and finally, the happy trail that I want to play with.