Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Kate sighed, her breath warm and sweet as it mingled with his.
Kennedy’s hand went to the back of her head, and he lowered her slightly back to the picnic blanket. He followed her down, settling his body against hers. Everything had changed that night on the boat and in the weeks leading up to it. He’d realized that he didn’t just want Kate, he needed her. She’d been all he could think about, the only important thing. He’d seen it happen with Ian when he met Lara, watched it brewing for years with Matt and Sabrina.
He’d thought he’d understood it on a rational level. Thought that even if that sort of all-consuming obsession with another person didn’t happen for him, he’d known what they were going through.
He hadn’t. Not until it had happened to him with Kate.
Kennedy now realized that he’d do anything just to be near her. Even if it meant making out in Central Park.
Especially then.
She was shy at first, her kiss chaste, her body tense, and he let her set the tone of the kiss. Eventually, when her hand lifted to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair with a touch of frustrated urgency, he rewarded her by tangling his tongue with hers. Her small body arched up, her mouth opening to his.
Kennedy was right there with her. He lost himself in the kiss, forgetting they were in a public place, on the fucking grass. He hadn’t even opened the wine, but he felt drunk on the moment.
Drunk on her.
His thigh moved farther over her, pinning her legs to the blanket, and Kate folded her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in. Kennedy’s hand drifted over her waist, over the shirt, because they were in a public place, for God’s sake. He’d never hated clothes as much as right now, and before he could think through the wisdom of it, his fingers inched beneath the hem of her T-shirt, finding the bare skin of her smooth stomach.
As far as touches went, it was a chaste one, but they both moaned.
His hand stilled, and his eyes flew open as he lifted slightly, breathing hard as he looked down at her.
Kate’s eyes fluttered open a moment later, her gaze as dazed as he felt.
“I don’t know if I can keep this PG,” he admitted, brushing a brief kiss over her mouth. As though proving his point, her lips moved against his, warm and clinging and passionate, and the kiss went from chaste to hot in the span of a heartbeat.
“So don’t,” she whispered, then bit his lip.
His fingers clenched against her waist once more before he groaned and tore himself away, rolling onto his back with a rueful laugh. “Jesus. I feel like a horny teenager.”
Kate lifted her head. “Why’d you stop?”
The vulnerability in her voice clawed at him, and he knew she was thinking about his careless words from years earlier. Words he didn’t remember saying, hadn’t even meant. Hardly irresistible.
Fucking moron. She was beyond irresistible.
And he was beyond hard.
He rolled toward her. “I stopped because I was about five seconds away from screwing you in the middle of Central Park.”
Her wide smile surprised him. Delighted him.
“Screwing?” Kate said, her tone amused. “There’s a word I never imagined hearing from Kennedy Dawson’s mouth.”
“What?”
“The word screw to describe sex. It’s just so delightfully improper.”
He frowned, not particularly enjoying how amused she looked at the thought of him and sex in the same sentence. “What word did you think I used?”
She pursed her lips and considered. “Coitus?”
“Christ.” He turned his head back to stare up at the sky.
“Copulation?” she guessed again.
“Stop.” His eyes closed in bemused dismay.
“Fornication? I don’t know. I just picture you being very polite and proper and tidy about the whole process.”
His eyes opened. Screw the picnic.
Kennedy sat up and picked up the thermos and cups, shoving them back into the bag, along with everything else he’d already unpacked.
“Hey!” She sat up in confusion. “What are you doing?”
Kennedy stood, then reached a hand down to her. “Up.”
She ignored the hand and scowled at him. “I thought we were having a picnic in the park.”
“I’ve got something better in mind.”
25
Sunday, May 19
They barely made it inside his apartment before six years of wanting this man took over.
The second his door closed, Kate’s fingers found the front of his shirt, his perfectly pressed, never ever wrinkled shirt, and she bunched it between her fingers. Her eyes locked on his, seeing the same heat she felt mirrored in his dark gaze as she slowly, purposefully pulled his mouth down to hers.
Kennedy bent his head, closing the distance of their considerable height difference, and the second his mouth touched hers, he took control. One hand pressed the center of her back, the other cupped the back of her head as he spun her around and pressed her back against the front door, his mouth never leaving hers.