Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“I love that you say my name in your sleep.”
Kerris panicked for a moment. Walsh was in her bed! She was used to waking up with his name on her lips and a guilty ache in her heart. Bed empty. Hope sagging. Frustrated and a little horny. Instead she felt sated, limbs weighted with leftover pleasure. Her sleep-fuzzed brain cleared second by second until last night snapped into focus. She had come more than once. And so had he, but they hadn’t crossed that line. It was a technicality, one most people wouldn’t care about, but one she clung to. One she needed.
She pushed back against the warm wall of muscle at her back. Walsh’s hands wandered, lifting the gown he’d given her to wear last night, running his hands along her stomach and between her breasts until he reached the orchid charm she’d worn to bed. She turned over, and it was surreal to see Walsh’s broad shoulders, the muscles stacked in his stomach, his dark green eyes and bed-rumpled hair, first thing in the morning.
“Did I say your name?” Kerris pulled her brows together and pushed her lips to one side. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure that after last night I recognize my name on your lips.”
Kerris’s mouth rounded into an “o” and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Walsh, good grief.”
“Are you embarrassed?” He chuckled, nudging her shoulders until she was pressed back against the Egyptian cotton sheets and he was propped on his elbows, hovering over her. “I think I said your name a time or two myself.”
“I just…this situation will take some getting used to. That’s all.”
“Am I a situation?” He breathed the words against her neck, tracking his lips up to draw her earlobe between his lips, between his teeth.
Embarrassment withered and died as desire, hot and urgent, came alive. Kerris turned her head, intercepting his mouth, moaning into the kiss as his hands pushed the silk gown up over her hips. A strident ringing stilled them both, lips pressed together, Walsh hard between her thighs. He dropped his forehead to hers, huffing a frustrated breath.
“That’s my dad’s ring tone.”
Kerris tapped his shoulder for him to move.
“Get it! I will not be responsible for—”
He covered her open mouth with his, gripping her hip and grinding into her, taking her breath and every thought hostage.
“It’s totally your fault,” he whispered against her lips. He rolled over to sit on the side of the bed and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. “Hey, Dad.”
Kerris eyed the tanned, muscled terrain of Walsh’s back, tapering to his hips and butt. If she had thought of herself as a frozen river at one time, she was anything but now. She was a hot spring, rising and steaming and gushing every time she was around this man.
“Dammit, don’t tell me that.” Walsh leaned one elbow on his knee and ran his fingers through the dark hair curling around his neck.
Kerris rolled out of bed, letting the ivory and black silk of her gown float down her legs. She had never worn anything like it. And the matching kimono? Kerris smiled and tied the sash at her waist. Draped in decadence. That’s how she felt. The real decadence? The hours they’d spent making that bed an altar where they worshipped each other’s bodies. The true luxury? A night in Walsh’s arms, falling asleep to reckless dreams and waking up safe in his love.
And now it was time for food.
She hadn’t seen a kitchen last night, but this place seemed to have everything else. She assumed there was a place to cook and food to eat. She stepped toward the door, only to have Walsh snag her wrist and pull her to stand in front of him.
“Yep, I hear you, Dad.” Walsh dropped kisses on her silk-covered stomach, caressing the curve of her butt. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kerris ran a hand over the unruly dark hair she had tugged last night as he pleased her unbearably. He looked up, his eyes soft, his grin a beautiful slash across the plane of his face. He patted her backside and turned her toward the door.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” he said into the phone.
Kerris opened the bedroom door for the first time since last night when Walsh had brought her to bed wrapped around him like a lusty, clingy vine. Up on deck, the sun shone so brightly she squinted and sheltered her eyes with her hand. She explored the houseboat for a few minutes before she found the kitchen. Sure enough, it was fully stocked with everything she needed for pancakes and eggs.
Kerris was preparing an omelet when Walsh walked in wearing only boxers. Her mouth watered but not for the food. He stepped behind her, pulling her into his chest. Kerris leaned back into him, simultaneously comforted and excited by the hard strength of him encompassing her.