Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I always thought I wanted the pain—the struggle, the fight—but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I never wanted that at all.
“What can I say? I must’ve missed you.” I walk closer, intending to get myself a glass of water too, but she doesn’t move out of my way. I end up inches from her, breathing in the smell of her sweat. I forget all about the drink. All about everything but her.
“The apartment was lonely without you,” she says, mouth open, lovely lips parted. “I actually found myself wishing you hadn’t left. Stupid, right?”
What’s happening right now? Why do I feel like I’m spinning, falling into a vortex, unable to break away?
“Not stupid. Well, maybe a little, but I feel the same way. All I thought about while out in Boston was coming back home.” I touch her face. It’s a mistake, we both know it’s a mistake, but she doesn’t stop me, and I don’t stop.
“You just like to sleep in your own bed.” A coy smile. Daring me.
“I like to sleep in it when there’s another body next to mine.”
Her eyebrows raise. “You’ve been sneaking girls in here behind my back? Gareth Kane, are you cheating on your wife?”
I shake my head slowly. “There isn’t a woman on this planet that comes anywhere close to matching you.”
“What a gentleman,” she says, leaning back against the counter, fingers curling around the lip.
I put my hands on her hips. I shiver, aware that I’m crossing a line, but unable to turn back. She looks at me, lengthening her neck, eyebrows quirked. A little challenging smile on her lips.
“We both know I’m not a gentleman,” I say, voice husky. “There’s nothing gentle about me.”
“But you are oh, so manly.” She waggles her eyebrows, grabbing onto both of my biceps.
“This is what I missed. Your sparkling wit.”
“Wrong. You missed pinning me up against the counter in our kitchen. You missed seeing me down on my knees in front of you.”
I release a soft, strangled growl. “Yes, wife, that’s exactly what I missed.”
“You missed watching me while I work out. Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed. Not that I mind. It’s flattering, the way you look at me. I’ve never felt seen before.”
“I can’t help myself.”
“You have very bad self-control, it’s true.” She cocks her head.
“Only when it comes to you. In everything else, I’m in charge.”
“So you think, anyway.” She leans closer. “You think you’re so in control, but here you are anyway. What’s the end game, Gareth? You kiss me? You fuck me? Lift me up on the counter, spread my legs, lick my pussy until I scream? I’ll let you do it. You know I will. But what about after?”
I stare at her, pain lancing into my heart. She’s right to ask, and it kills me, because that’s what I want. Her legs wrapped around my neck, pushing me tighter as my tongue laps at her lovely clit.
I want her moans, her screams in my ears. I want her taste flooding my mouth.
I want my drool on her inner thighs, my bite marks above her breasts.
I want her claimed, owned, twitching with pleasure.
“Does there have to be an after?” I lean forward, brush my lips against hers. “Does there need to be anything else but right now?”
And I kiss her.
Chapter 43
Fiona
That stupid asshole kisses me.
We were having fun. A little harmless flirting, nothing more.
But he takes it too far and kisses me.
I can’t believe it. He says the exact wrong thing, and he still has the nerve to kiss me. I put both hands on his chest and shove him back as hard as I can. I’m small, he’s big, but I have the element of surprise—and a little leverage from the counter behind me.
He takes a couple steps back, eyes wide.
“You idiot,” I say, shaking my head. All the playfulness is gone now. “There’s only right now? Are you insane?”
His jaw works. “What do you want from me, Fiona? I’m moving to Boston. You’re staying here. What else can I do?”
“I don’t know,” I say, frustrating finally hitting its peak. I throw up my hands in disgust.
“You’re the one flirting with me, you know.”
“I’m aware of that. It’s frustrating, okay? I like flirting with you. It feels good.”
God, I’m so beyond confused.
Because I want him to kiss me. I want him to want me. I love flirting with him, I love teasing him, and I love getting teased most of all.
Except, I need to have some self-respect here.
“This isn’t easy for me either,” he says as if that makes a difference. “I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone.”
“Oh, so coming home and telling me how much you missed me is best right now?”
He looks away. “All right, maybe not that.”
“Let’s just call this what it is, okay, Gareth? You’re pawning me off on a job.”