Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Needing to taste her, I run my thumb along her lip to pull it out from the confines of her teeth, and then I lean in and kiss her. She tastes like the sweetest addiction, and with every swipe of her tongue and brush of her lips, I crave more of her. It would be so easy to lift her dress and yank off her underwear and fuck her right here in my foyer. But instead, I pull back, wipe the corner of her mouth where her lip gloss smeared a bit, and take a step back.
“You … you don’t want to …” she asks, letting the rest of her question trail off since I know exactly what she’s asking.
“Of course I do,” I tell her. “But I’m not going to because, for one, we have a date I want to take you on, and two, when the time comes for us to be together, while it’s going to be quick since I haven’t had sex in two years, it won’t be in my damn foyer.”
She chokes out a laugh, and I shrug.
“It’ll be rough,” I admit. “I’ll probably come in, like, two seconds flat, but I promise to make it up to you with multiple orgasms,” I say with a wink, making her cheeks and neck flush. “But right now, I want to take you on a date and get to know you without our little girls distracting us.”
I walk over to the table and pick up the vase of orchids I bought and then hand them to her. “For you.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“I looked them up, and they have a few meanings behind them, but one that caught my eye was strength.” I rest my hand on the curve of her hip. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her eyes turning glossy.
She steps out of my touch and walks over to the dining table, setting them down since the vase already has water in it. Then, she grabs her purse and comes back over to me.
I kiss her on her cheek and then take her hand in mine.
“C’mon, beautiful. Let’s get this date started.”
“Oh my God, this filet is delicious,” Kira moans. “Wanna try it?”
Before I can respond, she stabs a piece with her fork and brings it up to my mouth so I can take a bite. She’s right. The steak is good, but the only thing I can focus on is how close she is. When we were seated, I was a little annoyed that we were given some weird U-shaped booth, but then Kira slid in and patted the seat next to her, and my complaint was completely forgotten.
She ordered a glass of wine, and I ordered a scotch, neat—Kingston Gold since I’m loyal to the company I work for. Then, we started talking. Until the food arrived, the conversation has flowed from one topic to the next, just deep enough to learn about each other but on the surface enough to keep it light.
“It’s good,” I tell her once I’ve chewed and swallowed. “You want to try my salmon?”
She shakes her head, adorably scrunching her nose up. “Salmon is too fishy.”
“I would hope so.” I laugh. “It’s fish.”
“I love most fish—mahi-mahi, tilapia, cod—but salmon tastes too fishy. But I will have a bite of your potatoes.” She nods toward my plate and waggles her brows.
I feed her a bite, and she moans in pleasure.
“So good.”
The last date I was on was with my ex, and the vibe is like day and night. She ordered a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu and a salad—requesting the bread be removed from the table because it was too tempting—and then barely ate it.
Unfortunately, in the circles I run in because of my family name, that’s the norm for most women, and because of that, I’ve never experienced a woman like Kira.
She ordered her glass of wine based on the waiter’s recommendation after she asked what was “light and fruity,” ate half the bread in the basket, and then ordered the filet because she said she loved steak and hadn’t had it in forever.
Every day I spend with Kira, getting to know her, has me falling harder. She’s sweet and funny and warm. She listens when I speak, and she genuinely cares about what I have to say.
“You’re going to have to grill us some steaks,” she says, taking another bite of her food. “The girls can have hot dogs,” she adds with a laugh.
“You got it.”
Her phone goes off, and she puts her fork down. “It’s Ana,” she says. “Hey, is everything okay?”
She was worried about being away from Violet, but when she asked her daughter if she was okay with going, she was completely fine with it. And when I dropped the girls off, they didn’t even say bye when I was leaving.