Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
I’m not hungry, but I’ve already been an impolite bastard. I can choke down a few bites to make her effort worthwhile. “Thanks. You should eat, too. You’ve worked hard the last couple of hours.”
She gives me a wan smile as she plucks a grape between her fingers. I reach for a cracker and watch her, shoving down guilt and grappling for conversation, when she sucks the fruit between her lips, closing her eyes as she bites.
Watching her is a sexual experience that makes me instantly hard. And when she lets out an unconscious moan, the urge to kiss her, strip her down, and fuck her hits me even harder. Feeling like a heel, I drag in a shuddering breath.
Jesus, what am I going to do?
She swallows and lifts her wine. “You know, you’re the first man who’s ever wanted to discuss whether we should kiss before we actually did. I’m not sure if I should be flattered you’re taking this so seriously or feel rejected because you put me off.”
I need to decide how to proceed, but my head is at war with my gut. Both keep tangling with my libido until I’m one giant clusterfuck. But everything boils down to two increasingly obvious facts: One, the desire I feel for this woman isn’t going away. The more I get to know her, the more I want her. Two, though my quick search of her ohana is hardly comprehensive, I haven’t seen a single shred of evidence that Bethany is guilty…and everything about her behavior so far says she’s not.
It’s possible the feds didn’t arrest her is because she really is innocent. It’s possible she’s been through a lot, and I’ve just been an asshole on a witch hunt. It’s possible the quiet, caring woman I’ve been trying to resist these last few days is the real Bethany Banks.
It’s also possible that’s what I want to believe because I’m falling for her.
Fuck, I could talk myself in circles all day. I have to make a decision now, so I’m going with my gut. The Beth I’ve come to know isn’t the kind to steal from anyone. So I’m going to stifle my suspicions and believe she’s innocent…unless I prove her guilty. Until then, I’m going to treat her not like a suspect but like a woman.
Like my lover.
“When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot,” I quip. “If you still want me to kiss you, I’m beyond happy to do it.”
Five seconds slide by as she sends me a considering stare.
Whether she means to or not, she’s making me wait. Anticipation screams through my blood. The thought of finally touching her is so fucking turning me on.
“If you’re sure you want to…”
“Yeah, Beth. I really do.”
I can say that with all honesty.
With a nervous nod, she tilts her head up to me. Her eyes slide shut as she waits.
My heart thumps as I cup my fingers around her nape and stare. God, she’s going to be a sensory treat; I can already tell. Her skin here is ridiculously soft. Her braid caresses the back of my hand in a silky graze. I’ll explore every inch of her eventually. Right now, I’m fixated on her delicate jaw in my palm as I caress her pouty lower lip with my thumb.
As I lean in to kiss her, she surprises me by staying me with a palm on my chest. “But Clint? One thing… I’ve never been vulnerable to a lover. Ever. I’m trusting you. Please don’t make me regret it.”
Her plea gouges my conscience. “Beth…”
Shit. Maybe I should come clean here and now, explain everything, and give her the opportunity to tell me the truth in turn.
As I’m weighing the pros and cons, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulls herself against my body, and slants her lips across mine.
Then I forget everything.
Her kiss is an instant jolt of lust. My heart stops, then starts to thud dangerously. I drag in a breath to control the hot surge of lust, but it’s useless. Desire pours through my veins like lava, scalding every inch with need.
I yank her closer, fastening my mouth over hers, and tumble her back against the arm of the sofa. As my body covers hers, I revel in her indrawn gasp. Impossibly, my desire notches up again. Impatiently, I part her lips with my own and sink into her.
Oh, hell yes.
Against me, Bethany melts, tilting her head to admit me deeper. Groaning and greedy for more, I give her exactly what she silently begs me for.
Fuck, she smells so sultry and sugary sweet. She fits against me, every curve and swell, like she belongs here. She kisses like she’s hungry, and I’m her dessert. The way she tastes is something I’ve fantasized about a hundred times, but now that I know her shy, sweet-tart flavor? I’m going to crave it every time I don’t have my mouth on her.