Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Guinness.”
“Very good.” She nods to Austin.
“I’ll have a Guinness, too.”
“And you?” To Miles.
“Scotch. Neat.”
“Any particular brand?”
“The well brand is fine.”
She nods as she uses a palm-held ordering device. “Perfect. Would you like to order an appetizer?”
God, can this ever end?
Carly and Sadie discuss the merits of calamari over shrimp cocktail while the hostess walks by with more patrons, jarring the back of my chair once more.
“Damn,” I can’t help mumbling, as I look over my shoulder.
My stomach plummets.
A man and a woman are settling into a booth—Avery Marsh and her partner, Roy Jarvis.
Of course, Avery takes the side of the booth that faces me. Maybe she senses I’m staring. Maybe it’s because she’s an FBI agent. Whatever the reason, she looks up and sees me.
Her eyes widen for a split second. Then they narrow. She’s not happy to see me for sure, but damn…she looks like sex on a stick. Her blond hair is down now, flowing over her shoulders. Her lips are full and pink, and those blue eyes…
“Mozzarella sticks?”
I jolt at Sadie’s voice. “What? Oh, whatever’s fine with me.”
I look at Avery again, who, after only being seated for less than a minute, stands and makes her way to the exit.
I follow with my eyes and seconds later I pop to my feet, cutting off people in the pathway. I ignore my newfound family and go after Avery.
I saw her once. For minutes. I have to know. I have to confront her. Because not seeing her but knowing she’s in town is fucking killing me.
She’s in the parking lot, walking down a row of cars. People are coming and going, but it’s a lot less busy than inside.
“Avery!” I call.
She turns, crosses her arms over her chest.
“Hey, Chance.” Her tone is indifferent, bordering on dismissive.
“Leaving again?”
She narrows her eyes. Does she get my double meaning? Probably.
“I haven’t heard a word from you since I’ve been in town. Not surprising.”
Her comeback is well aimed. I cross my arms so my stance matches hers.
“I thought you forgot about me.” Again, double meaning.
“Are we talking about now or fifteen years ago?” she asks.
“You tell me.”
She looks gorgeous, from her wedge-heeled sandals to her dress that looks like a long T-shirt to those gorgeous blond locks.
“You used to wear a shirt like that.” My groin tightens. “Remember? It was mine.”
She looks down at her blue dress. It’s not revealing, but it showcases the curves of her breasts and hips. My dick stirs. Again. I remember the feel of her skin, the scent of her. The way her pussy was so fucking tight around me.
“I remember a lot of things.”
“Like how we kissed?” I take a step closer.
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t retreat.
“Like how you used to climb in my lap and let me touch you? How you spread your legs for me at the spring?”
She jolts as if she stuck her finger in an outlet and takes off.
I follow, keeping up with her easily due to my long legs. I catch her, touch her upper arm, and spin her around.
I hate her for leaving. For leaving without any explanation. I love her though. I always have. Never have I better understood the thin line between love and hate.
The need in me to taste and remember what it was like between us is too strong to resist.
My father, the investigation, the murder—all of it disappears when my lips meet hers.
Fuck, she’s just as I remember.
A gasp escapes her and I take the advantage and plunge my tongue into her mouth. She’s sweet as I remember, lush and soft in my hold. And that scent… Some flower that is solely hers.
She’s so much smaller than I am. I lift her, one hand banded low about her back, the other capturing the back of her head.
I lift my mouth to tilt my head.
“Chance,” she whispers.
We’re in a parking lot, and the irony of the moment isn’t lost on me. If Austin comes out and finds me making out with the lead agent on the case, he’ll be pissed, maybe even punch me like I did him when he was consumed by Carly.
I understand now. The need. The desire to claim.
I kiss along Avery’s jaw to her ear. We’re in plain sight, and I can’t do what I want and bend her over the nearest car’s hood.
“Is that pussy wet for me like it was at the spring?” I growl, my dick pressing into her so she knows I want her as much now as I did then.
She stiffens in my hold and pulls back, our breaths mingling. Her eyes flutter open and I get lost in hers for a moment. They’re so blue. So fucking blue like the Montana summer sky.
“You asshole,” she seethes.
“Me? Kitten, you’re the one who left town.”
“You’re the one who told me I was a whore.”