Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I say finally, because I can’t stand here forever and not get caught.
I’ve startled him. His chin whips toward me, those dark eyes locking onto me as he frowns. The motion destabilizes the exercise he’s got going. In slow motion, the dumbbell tips and rolls off his feet. And the loss of the weight unbalances him.
Luke rolls off the foot of his bed and right onto the floor with a thump and an oof.
And I do what any red-blooded man would do at this moment. I laugh.
“Fuck,” he grumbles from the floor.
“Don’t get up,” I say, trying not to bust a gut. And then I startle him all over again when I sit down beside him on the floor.
He turns to me with surprise on his face. “I didn’t expect you to show.”
“Yeah, I didn’t expect me to show, either.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I’m way too aware of how close we’re sitting, and of the sexy thump of the song keeping time with my heartbeat. “What is this music?”
“Chet Faker,” he says with a sly smile. “The song is called ‘Gold.’ You like it?”
I forget to answer him, because his mouth is only a few inches from mine now. And I’m having a vague, drunken memory from last night. His tongue in my mouth.
Luke tips his head to the side, studying me. I’m probably about as subtle as a brick while I’m staring at his mouth, wondering if another kiss from him would taste as dirty and dangerous as the first one.
He moves in, and I sort of brace myself to taste him again. But at the last second he swerves, and his lips skim my neck instead. Hello, goosebumps. He palms my chin, shifting it out of the way, making space for a line of slow, dirty, open-mouthed kisses beneath my jaw.
I make an inarticulate noise of surprise. Suddenly, all the tension in my body is killing me. Needing to move, I lift both my hands to his hard chest. The heat and muscle against my palms is another shock to my system.
And his, too. He makes a soft sound of encouragement as my thumb grazes a flat nipple. When it pebbles under my touch, he whispers a curse against the corner of my mouth. Still, he makes me wait for the kiss. I’m vibrating with anticipation by the time he finally puts me out of my misery, rising up on his knees to claim my mouth.
Fuuuuuck. My body buzzes with expectation at the scrape of his stubble against my lips. I inhale the smoky scent of ale, and he deepens the kiss immediately. My mouth opens like a hungry bird’s, and his tongue sweeps inside and clobbers me with sensation.
It’s overwhelming. My head bumps against the mattress as he dives in for more, throwing a knee over my body, landing in my lap as he owns my mouth.
We’re chest to chest, and my cock jumps at the proximity. Meanwhile, my hands give in to temptation, roaming his torso, wrapping around to explore the planes of his back.
All that muscle. And his rough mouth. It’s so different than kissing a woman. I fucking love it. I drop my hands to his hard ass and squeeze.
He breaks the kiss, leaning back, staring down at me. “You’re not afraid.”
“What?” I rasp. “That’s a requirement?”
He laughs suddenly, and the sound goes straight to my cock. “No. Whatever. Take your clothes off if you’re so brave.” He runs a hand down my chest, and my goosebumps redouble, as if nobody ever touched me before.
I fight off a horny shiver and then remove my football jacket. “Get off me if you want to get me off.”
“Oh I do,” he says, rising suddenly. His sweatpants have a very distinct bulge in front. And when he catches me staring, he reaches down and pumps his hand over the cotton. Then he steps away and kicks his door shut, clicking the doorknob lock into place.
I get up off the floor, and blood rushes to my face as I shrug off my T-shirt. This break in the action gives me a chance to think about what I’m doing. Stripping down for Luke Bailey.
Yup, thinking is overrated.
Luckily for me, he chooses that moment to slide his sweatpants off, bending over slightly, offering me a view of all his muscles from a brand new angle, and a seriously muscular ass straining the stretchy fabric of a pair of black boxer briefs.
I shuck off my shoes and jeans with shaking hands, still watching him. “You have, like, no body hair.”
He snorts. “Professional upkeep.”
“What do you mean—?” I don’t get a chance to finish the question because he stalks into my personal space and kisses me again. He takes the back of my neck in one hand and devours my mouth with no preamble.