Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“What about the guy at the Chinese New Year’s parade a few years back, or the one at Great America.” I rush on, “Oh, and the skater guy from the pier and that musician on Haight Street who pulled me onto his lap for the encore when I tipped him?”
“Stop.”
“Were they all ‘too old?’” I mock, crossing my arms.
“Davis.”
“Who knew age gap was a trigger for you.”
“You are a trigger for me!”
“Yeah, me and the four measly years between us, right?”
“No.” He jerks forward, gripping my chin. “You and your smart-ass mouth,” he snaps.
“I—”
“I wasn’t done,” he cuts me off, tone dark with irritation, but laced in racy roughness. “You’re fire. The spark in your eye when you’re angry and how it deepens when you fight me. Defy me. Push me, and girl, you live to fucking push me. The low pitch of your laugh is triggering, especially when it follows a dirty little word you dared to say. And the way your tongue curls when you swipe it along the corners of your lips?” A quick moan leaves him, the kind that follows the taste of your favorite chocolate bar. “I could go on and fucking on. Want me to?”
Yes, yes, I do, but…
Swallowing, I’m forced to look away, but my gaze is called right back to his when I try to make sense of this. “Does that mean you think I invite men to me with my body language?”
He slips into my space with purpose, his nose nearly touching mine. “If that were true, there’s no way you’d still be a pretty, pure little thing.”
My throat runs dry, but I manage to whisper, “I’m confused.”
“I know. That’s a trigger for me too.” His gaze locks onto my lips, and his teeth sink into his own. “You have no fucking clue what you do to a man, and baby, you do it without a single fucking ounce of effort.”
My nerves come to life, an electrifying sense of possibility coursing through me. “You called me baby.”
Crew chuckles, but it’s hoarse, and his eyes come back to mine. “Had to call me out on that, huh?”
“Just noting it for my mental record book. This one’s getting its own page.” I swallow, my body buzzing. “Crew?”
He tips his head a bit, his gaze transfixed on my mouth, as if his body is standing before me, but his mind is miles and miles away. Maybe even in fantasy land.
“This would be a perfect time for another lesson.”
“What kind of lesson, baby?”
There it is again.
Muscles meet mush.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, but I don’t let it stop me from asking for what I want. “A kissing lesson.”
His brows furrow in frustration, but his feet shuffle closer. “Kiss you as a lesson?”
I nod.
His frown deepens, leading me to say more.
“It’s just, I really want to kiss you right now, so what better time?” I defend so fast, my words run together. “I figure I can get what I want and you can coach me through, tell me what I do wrong and how to make it be—”
My words are cut off when Crew’s lips crush mine, but not in a kiss. They hold there, right against me. He speaks with an angry rumble, his eyes sharp and depriving my lungs of the oxygen they need. “You want to kiss me, that is what you said.”
“I did,” I whisper. “I do.”
Him being pressed to me like this, our lips mingle with our words, it’s too much, and by too much, I mean not at all enough. I can’t take it.
I taste his tongue, quickly slipping mine past the thin opening of his mouth.
Crew groans, eyes closing, and then he’s nudging me backward, his closed fist pressing at the center of my ribs.
Back, back, back, my last breath held hostage by my lungs until I’m met by the cool wall behind me, where it whooshes from my lips in a hasty, shaky exhale.
“You want to kiss me,” he repeats. “Not as part of our deal. Not as a lesson. Not to learn a damn thing.” His palms flatten on the wall on either side of me, completely caging me in.
It’s a glorious feeling, to be surrounded by nothing but him.
“Davis.”
My eyes snap open—I hadn’t realized they closed.
“Hmm?”
Crew presses closer, his body flush with mine, his thumb stretched beneath my chin. “Tell me what you want.”
“I told you,” I rasp. “I want everything. Anything.”
“And then what?” he wonders, his chest rising and falling rapidly against my own.
“And then I’ll probably, definitely, want it again.” I look into his eyes. “I’m not good with moderation, you know this. I eat all the Halloween candy in a day, buy a dozen donuts and share only when I have to. It’s a problem.”
“Baby?”
Good god, how this man makes the endearment sound like a dirty little prayer.