Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“No. It’s a running joke that Vincent won this place, but none of us have ever been. I knew I had to get away from everything if I was going to make Mrs. Fletcher’s deadline. I didn’t want to be distracted by my normal routine or my brothers dropping in. I didn’t want to think about anything but writing and editing.”
She winces. “Sorry I interrupted things.”
“Don’t be.”
You’re just what I need.
I don’t say it out loud because I’m not quite sure what it means, but the words float in my head as if they want to be spoken.
Side by side on the sofa, the sexual tension between us has settled to a simmer but I slide my hand into hers because I can’t not touch her.
“Tell me more about what you want to do when you finish at the cookery school.”
She brings her legs up onto the sofa and leans against me. I nearly groan with pleasure at the feel of her body against mine.
“I’ve been thinking maybe I’d like to be a private chef. There are plenty of jobs in London, and they pay pretty well. Who knows. It’s a long way away. All I know is that I love to cook. That’s when I’m at my happiest. It’s where I find solace and peace.”
“You’re an exceptional cook.”
“We should do the apple pie tomorrow. Unless you don’t have time. I know you’re busy.”
More cinnamon. I couldn’t think of anything better.
“I should be able to carve out some time.”
“You should get your rest.” She shifts, lets go of my hand, and stands. A wave of disappointment moves through my body. I’m not ready for her to leave.
“You must be tired,” I say. I’m so wired, I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep at all tonight.
“You need to be fresh for tomorrow. You have a deadline to hit,” she replies.
We both stand and I cup her face and press a kiss to her lips. “Sweet dreams.”
I watch her walk to the bedroom. She lets out a small smile as she closes the door. If we weren’t snowed in, I’d go for a walk, then let out my pent-up desire in the shower. I glance out of the window. The snow is at least knee-high now, although it’s difficult to tell. Regardless, it’s not running weather. It would be foolish to even go for a walk. It’s pitch black and windy as fuck. You’d have to have a death wish.
There’s nothing to do except go to bed. I can’t even do the dishes because I know the sound will bring her right back out here to help, defeating the purpose of the distraction.
I sigh and pull my shirt over my head, when I hear the creak of a door. I snap my head around and she’s in the doorway of the bedroom, standing in her underwear and a t-shirt that skims her waist.
My entire body begins to buzz with need as her gaze flickers over my chest. I turn full on to her so she can take it all in.
I want her, and I can’t hold back much longer from telling her all the filthy things I want to do to her.
“Ellie.” My voice is throaty and hoarse—I can barely form words through the desire.
She transfers her weight from one leg to the other and I can’t help but stare between her thighs and wonder how she tastes.
I exhale, unable or unwilling to hold back any longer. “Come here.”
I can’t be sure, but something like relief passes over her expression. As she walks toward me, I can tell by the sway of her breasts that she’s not wearing a bra. I clench my fists, trying to keep myself on a lead.
“Ellie,” I repeat. It’s a question—is this what she wants? Is she ready? Is she sure?
She steps toward me and stands as close to me as she can without touching me.
“Zach.” She fumbles for the bottom of her t-shirt and pulls it over her head.
I groan. I’m dizzy, my senses fighting for supremacy, each one trying to elbow the other out of the way. There’s too much to take in.
“You’re beautiful,” I manage to say.
She looks up from under her lashes. “So are you.”
I skim my palms down her sides, settle them on her waist, and hook my thumbs over her hip bones. “Couldn’t sleep?” I ask.
“Didn’t want to,” she says.
I let out an I-know-that-feeling chuckle and maneuver us so she’s sitting on the sofa. She reaches up for my jeans fastening, but I open her thighs and kneel between them.
“I want to taste you, Cinnamon.”
I hook my thumbs under the sides of her underwear and remove the white lace in one swift movement. Immediately she goes to close her legs.
I just shake my head and lean over her, kissing her once on the mouth, once on the neck, and once between her oh-so-perfect breasts. I could spend hours lost on her breasts, but I’ll come back to that later. I take one of her nipples in my mouth and release it, giving it a scrape of my teeth, causing her to let out a shocked yelp.