Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“That’s it for her for the night.” Tyler chuckles. “I got some more of the Riesling you like. How about I pour us a glass and we sit outside for a few minutes?”
Have I mentioned how thoughtful he is? Because it’s everything. I love that he made note of the fact that I like Riesling. I went on two dates with someone who continually ordered me red wine with meals, even though I detest red wine—especially if it’s a dry red, like that guy always ordered. He seemed surprised when I stopped returning his calls, which confirmed that he was oblivious. He’d been so hell-bent on imposing his will on me that he never realized how off-putting it was. I know I’ll never have to worry about that with Tyler. He considers me, which is priceless. I wish more women realized how absolutely imperative that is.
“I’d love a glass,” I answer, hoping it’ll do something to settle my jitters. I’m almost as nervous as a virgin on prom night.
I can’t contain my smile when he pours one glass for us to share before he holds his hand out to me and then leads me outside. Once he settles into an Adirondack chair, he has me sit on his lap. Another thing I love is how tactile he is. Curling up against him, I take the glass of wine and take a sip before handing it back.
“Noticed you didn’t eat a lot at dinner,” he says after he takes a sip from the glass. Before I can respond, he continues, “I’m thinking you picked up on the way I’ve been looking at you all night.”
My breath catches in my lungs, holding there as I nod. “I noticed you seem, um… more intense than usual.”
Setting his hand on my knee, he squeezes gently. I’m wearing a teal off-the-shoulder summer dress that ends two inches above the knee, which means he’s touching naked skin.
“I had it in my mind that I wanted to wait until the fifth date before we took it to the next level. I wanted you to know I’m serious about you, about us.”
I stare at him like a complete idiot for several seconds as I process that. My first thought is that if I didn’t already know he’s different than any man I’ve ever known, this would be the thing that would clue me in.
The second thing I think is that this was our fifth date. What he just said and the way he’s watching me right now make it clear I’m about to get very, very lucky.
“Say something, babe. You feel me?” he asks.
I nod like a bobblehead in a New York City cab. “I feel you,” I answer. Then, after taking a deep breath, I blurt, “Can we start now?”
His eyes darken, his expression going from intent to feral and sensually charged in a blink. “Fuck, my girl’s impatient,” he says, his voice gravelly.
My girl.
He just called me his girl. I wonder if it’s possible to go on overload from happiness.
“You ready for me to take you inside?” he asks. “Because once we’re in there, I’m not stopping until we’re both naked, sweaty, and too wrung out to move after all the fucking we’re about to do.”
His words paint a picture that makes me shiver. “I’m ready,” I tell him, my voice steady.
Nodding, he dumps the remainder of the Riesling—such a waste, but under the circumstances, I’m willing to overlook the crime against wine—and then helps me off his lap. Once I’m on my feet, he takes my hand, linking our fingers together, and we walk back into the house. Inside, he lets go of my hand, secures the sliding door, and closes the curtains. He then walks to the kitchen and sets the empty wineglass down on the counter before he turns.
The intensity in his eyes as he makes his way to where I’m standing is everything. Stopping in front of me, he cups my face and leans in for a kiss. It’s not gentle or tentative at all. This is heat and desperation, and I meet him every step of the way. I’m so wrapped up in it that I don’t even realize we’ve been moving until my knees hit the back of his bed at the same time his mouth lifts from mine. With a quick glance around the room, I see he already shut the bedroom door. A lamp on his dresser casts a soft glow to the room. This is the third time I’ve been in Tyler’s bedroom, and each time, I marvel at how nice it is. He’s got a wrought iron sleigh bed that was designed and constructed by a friend of his dad’s. On that bed is a super fluffy down comforter with a white duvet. The first night he brought me in here, I knew right away that Tyler likes to be comfortable when he sleeps. If the duvet and the pillows hadn’t clued me in, the mattress would have. It’s like lying on a cloud. It doesn’t hurt that his sheets are the softest cotton I’ve ever felt in my life.