Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I wanted to kiss her. I’d never wanted to kiss a woman more and that said a lot since I’d been kissing women since the tender age of thirteen. And yet I couldn’t because I was married to her. Because it would complicate things. That piece of illogical bullshit annoyed me to no end but there it was, reminding me that I was an adult now and no longer making decisions based on the wants and needs of my dick. All this I told myself while the jeans I wore strangled a fast-growing hard-on.
“Home sweet home,” she murmured, her raspy voice laced with humor.
The cabin was suddenly before us. I parked and turned the engine off. In the dead of night, out in the middle of nowhere, every sound in the cab seemed amplified by ten. The mingled sound of our breathing, the soft hum of Maren Morris’s voice drifting from the radio. The tension was back and escalating quickly, so were the longing-packed looks. Something had to give.
“Forget it. We’re not having sex. It’s a bad idea.” My lips formed the words before I could think twice.
She sat up straight, stiffly. “Who said anything about sex?”
“Your eyes, Sunshine. You keep looking at me like you want me to slowly peel away every piece of clothing on your body, kiss a path from your ankles to your sweet pussy, and worship your perfect breasts.” She inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling. “Then, if you asked nicely and only if you asked nicely…I’d fuck you.”
The pale skin of her throat caught a ray of moonlight, the tendons moving as she swallowed. She wasn’t as immune to me as I’d first thought. Good. Why should I be the only one to suffer from unrequited lust. God knows, I was suffering. I watched her fight to get herself under control, to tamp down her reaction to me.
“I don’t recall you ever playing hard to get. Quite the opposite actually.”
A slow smile grew on my face. “Is that an invitation?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not my type.”
“What’s that? Barely legal?” The chance that Sydney might like men as young as Drake made me want to snap a two-by-four in half.
Her lips turned up in an insolent curl. “Deeper than a spray-on suntan.”
I hadn’t been this turned-on in ages, or had more fun arguing, and I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to crawl into bed alone. I didn’t want to listen to her talk to the dogs on the other side of the wall. I didn’t want to imagine her naked. I wanted to feel her naked. Under me. Over me. Any way I could get her––I’d take it as long as I got to touch her.
“The second time I’d take you rough…” My mouth started running on its own again. “From behind. I’d sink into you hard and deep and leave bite marks on the curve of your shoulder. Slap your ass a couple of times just in case you forgot who you married and started entertaining thoughts about a ranch hand who’s too young to know that you don’t shit where you eat.”
Her nostrils flared and her lips parted, the lower one glossy from where her tongue had darted out. A primal thrill shot through me. This was going to happen and maybe, just maybe, I’d get this dangerous urge out of my system. Then we could put this inconvenience behind us and go on as business partners.
“Am I the only one that recalls what happened last time your ego got ahead of your common sense?” was her reply, voice low, the rasp so pronounced I felt it in my balls. It made me wonder if she was doing it on purpose to drive me crazy.
“I think we both know what happened that night. Stop kidding yourself.”
The image of how she’d looked up at me all those years ago, all soft and willing when I’d pinned her against the wall of the coat room with my hips, came rushing in. Whether she was too embarrassed to admit it or not, she’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted her that night. I’d been watching her, biding my time, and when she excused herself from the dance floor and headed for the restroom, I made my move.
She hadn’t pushed me away then, hadn’t said no or made any gesture of refusal because she’d been watching me all night too. I kissed her gently and she kissed me back. Then I called her Shelley and her knee came up, barely missing my future kids. It had been a simple case of wounded pride. That’s what she wouldn’t admit.
“This may come as a surprise, Scott––I’m well aware of how distorted your opinion of yourself is––but I’m not interested in sex with any man who’s given more rides than Disneyland.”