Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Thomas nods, steps closer, lifting a hand to my face, cupping my cheek. “Think you might be able to help me with those?”
His head lowers, his lips brushing over mine, a kiss meant to both wait for my answer and sway it his way. But I don’t need any swaying. My arms lift, find their way around his neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It’s a lovely sort of kiss, both slow and sweet, and yet a little bit extra hot knowing we’re in a hushed hallway, where anyone could come upon us making out.
His hands glide over me, and when his palms brush the sides of my breasts, I make a needy noise that’s just a little too loud and we both freeze.
With a sheepish smile, I hold up my room key. “We could make the one-night thing a two-night thing.”
“Twist my arm,” he says without hesitation. Though before I can open the door, he grabs my hand and tugs me down the hall. “Not your refrigerator room. Mine.”
His room is cozy and warm, and we’re reaching for each other in the darkness even before the door clicks quietly closed.
It’s the last night in Vermont, the last night of this, and we both know it. Our kisses are slow and unhurried, our pace intentionally controlled as our hands reacquaint themselves with the other’s body.
It shouldn’t be like this, I think in frustration as he shoves my coat off my shoulder, his hands gliding under my sweater, his fingers cool against my skin.
My reaction to him last night, the sheer epicness of it, it should have been a result of the newness, a simple build-up of our strange chemistry.
With curiosity abated, I shouldn’t want him this much, I shouldn’t feel as though I’ll die if he doesn’t touch me, or that I’m at my most alive when he does.
He pulls my sweater over my head, then bends, pressing hot kisses to the place where my breasts swell above my bra. Thomas pulls back slightly, running a long finger along the top of the black lace.
I feel a little stab of relief that it’s one of my best bras, one that I’d packed when I thought I’d be sharing a room with Kris . . .
The thought is jarring. Uncomfortable, as though trying on shoes that don’t fit, and then I see the deep line between Thomas’s eyebrows, realize he’s had the same thought.
“Hey.” I lay my palm along his jaw. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”
I put an ever-so-slight emphasis on you, but when his troubled expression doesn’t change, I step closer, placing my hands on his chest and going to my toes. I kiss him. I tell him with my kiss what my words can’t explain, and I feel the moment he gets it. His mouth softens beneath mine, his tongue gliding inside my mouth to take command of the kiss, as his fingers unsnap the button of my jeans.
I gasp when he surprises me by sliding a hand down my front, slipping beneath lace, finding me already wet and aching.
“Believe me now?” I say on a pant, as he circles and strokes.
Thomas eases back, then drops to his knees, removing my boots and then peeling my jeans down my legs, tossing them aside.
His thumb glides over the lace V of my underwear, then he presses a hot kiss to that same spot, using his tongue to press the rough lace against my core and I cry out, my hands fisting in his hair.
I bite back my disappointment when he stands again, let him nudge me back to the bed. I sit, but before I can scoot back towards the headboard, his fingers wrap around my hips, holding me still.
His silver eyes lock onto mine as his fingers hook beneath the elastic, and I lift my hips slightly so he can ease them down, over my legs. Once more, he drops down in front of me, his hands parting my legs wide.
He kisses the inside of my knee. The other. His lips drift over the insides of my thighs, idly, as though there’s all the time in the world and I’m not aching for him.
“Thomas,” I groan, when he gets torturously close, then drifts back towards my knee.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm me,” I say with a laugh of frustration.
He looks up, his smile wicked. “You want something?”
It’s the same game as last night. One I’m surprised by how much I like, putting words to my needs—my wants.
“Kiss me,” I manage on a whisper.
He pecks the inside of my knee.
“No,” I groan, my fingers tunneling into his hair. “Lick me.”
His tongue flicks, again over the inside of my knee.
Evil, evil man.
I tug harder, guiding his head, positioning his face at the apex of my thighs.
I nearly come off the bed at the first teasing flick of his tongue, and he sets a hand low on my belly, holding me still as he licks me a second time, this time with the flat of his tongue, licking all of me, doing something devilish to my lip that has me letting out a sob and falling back onto the bed. I release his hair, instead gripping my own in a futile attempt to stay in control.