Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Suddenly, a chill runs down my back, causing the hairs on my arm to lift. Like the feeling you get when you’re being watched. Uneasy, I open my eyes, and find Heston standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, staring at me with a smoldering expression.
Losing concentration, my piece begins to wobble and fall to the side. I release my foot from the pedal and let out a breath. Shit, I didn’t even get to see what it was becoming.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I say, unaware he let himself in. I thought he’d text when he was here or knock, so finding him already in the house is surprising. I’m attracted by the gall of this man.
He doesn’t say anything, just struts farther into the room, his shoulders square and his eyes prowling, as if he’s an animal hunting in the dark. His intense gaze has me all hot and bothered and my lips part as he grabs the back of my chair and slips one of his legs behind me. I scoot forward until he’s sitting behind me, my ass now halfway on the edge of the chair and his lap. Reaching for my phone, he puts on “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers, the song from the movie Ghost, then sets it back down. I want to laugh, but I bite my lip, reining it in.
His hands cradle my elbows. His fingertips, soft as silk, slip down my arms. My breath hitches and my core pulsates from his touch. His hands cup mine around the piece of clay I was trying to inspire life into. Pressing my foot back on the pedal, my hands glide up and down, renewing its shape. He leans in closer, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. I close my eyes, feeling, listening. His heat on my back. His large fingers slipping between mine as the wet clay dances beneath my palms.
His lips press against the dip right under my ear, and I can’t help but sigh and lean into him. He shuffles beneath me, his hard length against my ass. I circle my hips, so it rubs my clit just right. Heavy panting fills the room, our hands still working the pottery. I release my foot from the pedal and turn in his lap, until my legs are straddling his, our faces inches apart. With my hands caked with clay, I grab both sides of his face and kiss him hard, need burning inside me. I lick his upper lip, and his tongue returns the gesture, flicking my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth until our tongues touch. His hands slide up my back, untying my apron. I pull it over my head and toss it across the room. The light now shining right in my face, he raises his hand and turns it off. He stands, my legs squeezing his hips, so I don’t fall, and we walk across the room. Holding me up with one arm, he uses the other to turn the lights off and shut the door. Slowly, he drops to his knees and lays me on the floor, his hands on either side of my hips. I arch my back, needing friction, his touch, something. Lifting my shirt, he leans close, his lips leaving butterfly kisses on my stomach. My hand falls to his head, running my fingers through his hair. He devours my body, his hands all over me. Moonlight streaming through the room, soft music crooning from my phone lead to sex so powerful, it depletes every one of our senses until we both go languid, our bodies imprinting on one another, binding us into something stronger than just friends.
Laughter and pots banging in the kitchen cause me to stir awake. Naked and hiding under the soft sheets, I fight the intrusion and try to go back to sleep. Giggles and a male voice have my eyes snapping back open.
Paige and Heston must be in the kitchen.
Tossing the covers off me, I grab my robe from the door, tie it tight, and make haste to see what they’re doing. Turning the corner, I look over the living room and kitchen and find Heston standing in front of the stove in jeans and no shirt, his feet bare. He holds a pan in his hand, hovering it over the stove top as Paige, in her pajamas and Dutch braids, stares at him, happiness in her eyes.
“I’m going to laugh so hard if you miss!” Paige says, not seeing me standing here watching.
“You’re the one who says flipping them in the air makes them taste better.”
“It does. It makes them more fluffy or something.”
Shaking his head, he gives his ass a little wiggle to prepare then tosses the pancake. We all watch with bated breath to see where it lands. It flips twice, then free falls back into the pan.