Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
A lazy smile curves his lips. "You were looking at my ass, huh?"
I roll my eyes and harumph like a crazy person, which only makes him laugh. I like that sound far more than I like the lines of anxiety around his eyes. It's rusty and gravelly and so damn beautiful. Just like him.
He kills the engine and then reluctantly climbs from the truck before circling around to help me out. As soon as my feet touch the ground, I turn, intending to march up to the front door before I lose my nerve.
I don't even make it two steps before I feel his hand on my waist, spinning me around to face him.
"What…?"
That's as far as I get before I'm in his arms, and his lips are against mine.
He kisses me like a man possessed, hungry and demanding. The feel of his body against mine sets me on fire with desire.
One hand cradles the back of my head. The other presses against the small of my back, molding me against his hard, muscular body. I melt into him, gripping his broad shoulders as I kiss him back, just as hungry, just as demanding.
My head spins as he deepens the kiss, claiming every inch of my mouth as if it belongs to him. I whimper into his mouth, unable to think. Unable to breathe. All I can focus on is the way he holds me like he doesn't ever intend to let me go and the way his scent swirls around me, making me dizzy.
He presses me up against the side of the truck, tipping my head back further as he breaks away from my lips, kissing a trail down the side of my throat. The dichotomy of his beard and his lips against my skin is divine.
"Drake," I gasp, my hands all tangled up in his tuxedo jacket. "This isn't trick or treating."
"Who needs candy when I could eat you instead?" he grunts against my skin. "You're already the sweetest little treat I've ever tasted, unicorn. I want more."
My core clenches hard.
And then he groans, placing a soft kiss against my racing pulse. He rests there for just a moment like he's trying to collect himself before he pulls back. Those icy blue eyes meet mine, blazing like the sun.
"Let's go get your candy, baby. Before the whole goddamn neighborhood sees me deflowering a unicorn against the side of my truck."
I bite my lip and then nod. I kind of want to get to the deflowering part now, though. I knew when I left the masquerade with him that this is where the night would likely end. I decided to leave with him anyway. Not because I thought I owed it to him after grabbing his dick. Not because I didn't have a choice. But because something about him feels…right.
I can't even explain it. But there's something about this man that's utterly irresistible.
Don't you dare fall in love with him, Madeline Dooley, I mentally coach myself. But part of me thinks it may already be too late for that. He's wriggling his way into my heart far too quickly.
How the hell am I supposed to get him out again?
He leans down to scoop up the bag I dropped and then laces our fingers together, gently peeling me off the side of his truck.
"You sure about this?" he asks, eyeing the front of the house like he thinks it might bite him.
"Positive," I say. I am absolutely not positive about this. But YOLO, right? I think that's the saying that means you should do crazy stuff while you have the chance because you could die any day. And it's Halloween in a town full of crazy Halloween-loving people, so that day could very well be today.
He exhales a breath, his face set in grim lines, and reluctantly leads me up the steep steps toward the house. I can't help but giggle.
"You look like you're marching toward the gallows."
"Uh, have you looked around, unicorn? There are body bags hanging in the fucking trees."
"Spiders, too," I mutter.
He chuckles, shooting me a look. "You going to tell me what you have against spiders?"
"You mean besides everything about their existence?"
"They're the most helpful insect."
"They aren't insects. They're arachnids. And they have eight legs, Drake. You don't need eight legs if you're doing God's work."
"So, they're devil spiders. Got it."
"Exactly!" I cry.
He throws his head back, his laughter echoing around us.
"Wondered when you two were going to stop dry humping against the truck and come on up here."
"Ahhh!" I scream, launching myself into Drake's arms as a raspy voice floats out of the dark.
"Jesus Christ, Viola," he growls, catching me as I basically climb his body. I'm pretty sure I use his dick as a stepping stone. My bad.
The raspy voice howls with laughter, and a light flickers on. I peer around Drake to see a frail old lady sitting in a rocking chair tucked into the far corner of the porch.