Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“And cake. Cake is good.”
“Cake is good,” he says. “It’s portable, doesn’t have to be heated and you could smoosh it over someone’s body.”
“Smoosh. Good word.”
“But crumbs in bed… not so great.”
We laugh and eat, and I finish my beer. Even though my stomach is lined with carbs, I’m still a little tipsy, enjoying our easy conversation.
“So let me get this straight,” he says, pointing a fork at me like it’s a weapon. “You’ve seen The Godfather, but you think it’s overrated?”
“I didn’t say overrated,” I reply calmly. “I said it’s not as entertaining as people make it out to be.”
“Blasphemy.” He crosses his arms across his chest, his food forgotten. “The Trilogy is holy.”
“I’m just saying, it’s a good story, but the people who act like it’s life-changing...” I shrug and bite back my smirk as his expression tightens.
“You just don’t get it.” He shakes his head like I’ve mortally wounded him with my contrary opinion.
“There are so many better stories out there,” I say. “Stories that will never see the light of the big screen.”
He shrugs. “I don’t get time to read much. Do you?”
“All the time, but I’m not married to college hockey.”
He nods. “My wife is very demanding.”
And even though it’s said as a joke, jealousy at his mention of the word wife catches me by surprise. His eyes linger on mine a moment longer, and then he looks down at his plate like the conversation hasn’t made the air between us heavier. “I should clear these dishes.”
He stands quickly, takes both our plates, and loads them quickly into the dishwasher.
“What about the pans?”
“I’ll do them tomorrow.”
The tension between us is as heavy as chocolate pudding or gooey mac and cheese, and I lean back against the counter, needing its solid support to keep me steady. Hayes is nervous too, his gaze fixed on my feet like they hold all the answers. Until now, I’ve thought of him as confident and a player like his brothers, but the more time I spend in his company, the more my assumption feels wrong.
He takes a step closer and looks me dead in the eye. We hold each other’s gaze, and so much communication passes between us. Do you want this? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes. Will you push me away? No.
He steps towards me, gripping the counter next to me. I stare up at him, overwhelmed by the swarming butterflies in my tummy and the vibration of heat and longing that pulses between us.
He dips his head but doesn’t lean in enough to kiss me. Instead, he licks his lips and closes his eyes. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you,” he says. “Your lips.” His breathy exhale tickles my mouth. I’m magnetized to him. So eager to return to where we were in his truck, I sway forward. It’s all the encouragement he needs. When our mouths collide, it’s heat and longing and relief. Sheer relief. His hand grips my neck and hip, hauling me against him. I’m on tippy toes, but he still has to bend so we meet in the middle. The first swipe of his tongue against mine elicits a moan from deep in my throat. In seconds, he lifts me and carries me through the house. We bump into the doorjamb and then into the wall, but he’s careful to shelter me in his powerful embrace. I’ve no idea where we’re going, but eventually, he drops onto a huge couch, keeping me tightly pressed to his big, hard dick.
“Fuck, Riley. You feel so good. So right.” His growling words punctuate the press of his palm over my breast, and his hips rise to grind into me.
I feel right? He feels like heaven.
“Hayes,” I moan as he mouths my neck, my collarbone, and lower, squeezing my breasts together and pressing his face into the soft flesh. Hungrily, he licks my skin, tugging down my top and bra and sucking so hard on my nipple that I throw my head back.
“Your shirt,” I pant. “Take it off.”
In a flash, he’s yanked it over his head with one arm, and I almost combust at the hotness he’s revealed. I paw at his chest, grabbing hunks of muscle, and he’s just as frenzied, ripping my top over my head so I’m naked from the waist up with just my bra loose around my middle.
His eyes bug out at the fullness of my breasts and the dark pink of my wide nipples. He runs his finger around the outside and then latches to the tight tip, sucking like his life depends on it. I’m antsy and restless, desperate to come, and when my hips shift my pussy against the bar of his cock, he loses it more.
I’m on my back, with Hayes panting over me before I can look around. We’re in the dimly lit den, not the privacy of Hayes’ bedroom. “What if someone comes?” I whisper, even though we’re alone in the house.