Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
He certainly, certainly is not. Has a man ever actually gotten me out of breath like this before? Is this what it means to be in a lather? I’m having trouble concentrating, pulse all erratic, senses snapping like Bubble Wrap. “Let’s s-say we spend adult time together once in a while . . .” My mouth falls open on a sob when he humps me three times in quick succession, rattling the appliance. “What . . . oh . . . what do you want to call it?”
“Fucking my woman,” he rasps into my neck. “That’s what I want to call it.”
“I wouldn’t be your woman. I’m my own woman.”
“How about this, sweetheart? If you still don’t want to be called my woman after I’ve given it to you down and dirty, I’ll let you call me your friend with benefits.”
Um . . . laughably easy. Right? I think I can manage not to call myself someone’s woman, like we’re in an old Western. “Deal.”
“Thank God that was easy.” His teeth latch on to my earlobe, those hips grinding me up against the fridge, and oh Mama, I might come like this. I might actually come if he keeps rolling his lower body like that. Please. Please. Please. “I won’t be easy, Evie. You understand what I’m telling you?”
I understood it five minutes ago. “You’re big all over.”
“Yes.” He drops his face into my neck, nuzzling it there with a drawn-out groan. “They don’t make jeans that fit me, and they don’t make many women that fit me, either.”
Judging from his tone of voice, he’s had some frustrating experiences.
Instinctively, I know it won’t be like that with us. I mean, dang, call me Slick Rick after a few kisses. I can’t even imagine how this wild chemistry will implode once we’re naked.
I want to be naked with him. Now. Badly.
“I will. I’m going to fit all of you,” I whisper, nipping and licking at his jaw, opening my knees wider to allow him to crowd closer. “Try me on for size.”
“Evie,” he growls, stamping his mouth down over mine—and we just begin wrestling with clothes. My shirt comes off, and he makes a desperate animal sound, licking my nipples into stiff peaks in between hungered assaults of my lips, and I’ve never been more relieved I didn’t wear a bra this morning. He grips my butt roughly in his hands and noisily sucks the rosy tips of my breasts, his chest heaving wildly, his pupils blocking out the chocolate brown of his eyes. A man in heat. For me. “What kind of man lets this get away?”
“I . . . don’t know, I—”
“Going to get all of me inside your wet cunt, are you? Good girl.” He grazes the side of my neck and jawline with his teeth. “How hard are you going to let me pump?”
Hard as you want.
Wreck me forever.
Daddy.
I’m poised to scream those knee-jerk responses, but I never get the chance, because Sonny starts to cry in the back bedroom. The familiar and beloved sound is like having a dagger’s blade sink into my side. Over the course of the last several minutes, I totally forgot my son was asleep on this man’s bed.
I lost myself. I forgot about my top priority.
Is that what this man is going to make me do?
If so, he’s dangerous. He’s what I vowed to avoid.
Committing myself to someone when I need to be totally committed to myself.
My son.
“I have to go.”
He nods jerkily, lets my thighs drop from around his waist. Puts his hand on his hips and steps back, trying to regain his breath. “There’s something happening here, Evie.”
“I know,” I manage while filling my lungs. “It doesn’t exactly scream casual, does it?”
“Nope.” A line snaps in his cheek. He appears to be battling the urge to pin me again. Part of me wishes he would. “You’ll decide what this is and how fast it moves, but I’m going to do everything I can to help you decide in my favor. You, Evie, are in my goddamn favor. In whatever capacity you allow me.” He holds eye contact long enough to make my pulse feel fizzy. “But I’m going to say something for the record one time, just so it’s clear: you’re a package deal with your boy. I’m not scared of that.” He jerks his stubbled jaw in the direction of my feet. “I’ll be driving you home, Evie. I’ll be damned before you spill one more drop of blood on my behalf.”
My throat constricts violently, his image blurs—and I know I need to get out of here.
Get my head clear, reset my priorities.
Remember that getting distracted by a man only leads to disappointment.
A very silent fifteen minutes later, when Luke drops me and Sonny off outside the thrift shop, he watches me unlock the door that leads to the little apartment upstairs, and he doesn’t bother hiding his hunger or determination when I glance back. And despite what I’ve been forced to believe about romance and commitment and men, I can’t help but acknowledge . . . Luke might be a distraction from my priorities.