Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GABRIELLE
Ihand the driver a cash tip. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime. Have a safe night out there, ma’am.”
Shivering, I close the door of the rideshare and step onto my driveway. Lights are off in most of the houses down Bittersweet. Most, but not all. The kitchen light is on at Jay’s.
“Go back inside, Gabrielle. I’m sorry.”
I touch my lips, remembering how his felt against them.
Why? Why is he doing this? I don’t believe Jay is a bad guy. So why is he being a jackass?
I stare at the sky, hoping the night air will bleed into me and help me calm down. But the longer I absorb the stillness of the dark, the more I recall why I’m here and not out having fun with Della.
Because of Jay.
“Damn you,” I say, ignoring my better judgment and marching down the sidewalk toward his house.
There’s nothing to say to him. And by going over there, all I’m doing is letting him know he gets to me. That his behavior, and that kiss, affected me. I’m not helping my case by pounding on his door.
My knuckles rap hard against the wood anyway.
I’m just going to tell him to stay away from me. Draw some boundaries. Let him know I’m done playing his games.
My blood pressure rises as I knock again. This time, he answers.
The door pulls open with a flourish. He’s lost his shirt and his shoes but held tight to the fire I saw firsthand an hour ago. Anger is painted across his face.
I meet him glare for glare.
“Don’t you ever—ever—do that to me again,” I say, halfway shouting. “Don’t come at me, in a public place with an audience, no less, and act like you have some kind of say in what I do.” I lean closer, fury bubbling in my stomach. “You’re the neighbor, Jay. Just my neighbor. And if I want to go home with a guy—oof.”
His lips cover mine in an instant. The contact is a douse of gasoline on an already raging fire.
He’s greedy this time. Hungry. He’s as desperate for contact as I am.
One hand palms the back of my head, holding me against him. The other is around my back and cupping my ass with a ferocity that almost hurts.
I’m against his bare chest. Heat radiates off his tanned skin. We’re a whirlwind of lips, tongues, gasps, and moans. He pulls me closer to him and kicks the door closed.
The slam echoes through the room.
My hands run up his torso, appreciating every ridge and line. Then they roam across his shoulders and to the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks in my palms.
His kisses are urgent—demanding. He nips my bottom lip before planting kisses down my throat.
I moan, unable to take the intensity of the buildup in my core. My head spins as he kisses down my throat, then runs his tongue up to my ear. It’s too much of everything.
It’s not enough at the same time.
Oh, that feels so good.
“I’m still mad at you,” I say, barely able to get the words out.
He walks me until my back hits a wall, never breaking his kiss. His mouth takes mine hard, his tongue dragging over my bottom lip. My knees buckle. I’m held up by the drywall behind me and Jay Stetson’s hot body in front.
“You’re driving me nuts,” he says, the words peppered in between kisses.
My head digs into the wall as I wind his hair through my fingers. “Who do you think you are—oh, my fuck.”
His palms slide beneath my shirt, dragging roughly from my hips to my chest. My breasts in his hands—with only a piece of lace separating them—melts me.
I’m a rioting mess of need, want, and desire. So much fucking desire.
“Right now, I want to make you forget about that bastard in the bar.” He stops kissing me long enough to take the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head. He tosses it unceremoniously across the room. “How do you feel about that?”
“That depends on how you’re going to achieve it,” I say as his lips find mine again.
I find the waistband of his jeans, dipping my fingers behind it and drawing them to the button in the front. He leans away so I can unfasten them. His eyes are wild, yet cautious as he peers down at me.
“I want to fuck you, Gabrielle.”
That’s never sounded hotter. My thighs squeeze together, desperate for relief. That one simple sentence is the strongest foreplay of my life.
His button frees and I drag the zipper down slowly, letting my knuckles brush against his hard cock. I hold his gaze and watch his pupils dilate.
“I want you to fuck me too, Jay,” I whisper, gripping his sides. “But I need you to stop with the games.”
“There are no games.”
I chuckle, pushing the jeans down his legs. “I beg to differ.” I drop to the floor with them, tossing them away once he steps away from the fabric.