Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Leo handed me his phone and I looked through six or seven pictures of the big, shiny, capacious oven with its racks and pristine interior.
“Will it fit? It’s so big,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“It’ll fit,” he said. His eyes were hot on mine, and I felt the undercurrent of what we were saying to each other, felt the pinch of regret that I knew we couldn’t give in.
“Thank you so much Leo,” I said as I got up and rounded the table to give him an appreciative hug.
Unsure of exactly how it happened, I ended up fully in his lap, straddling his thigh and letting him feel the needy heat in my core that I couldn’t deny. I leaned in and loved the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard in response. His hands were gripping the edge of his seat like he was trying to keep them off me. I brushed my lips to his cheek and whispered, “Let go of the chair and put your hands on me,” and he made a throttled sound. Big hands settled on my hips and worked me back and forth on his thigh instinctively, giving me pressure where I wanted it, making my whole chest light up.
He slipped his hand into my hair and shut his eyes, holding me there for a moment, still, and so close that I felt his breath on my lips. Slowly, painstakingly, he tilted his head to one side and cupped my cheek in his hand. Then he brought his mouth to mine and our lips locked at last. Light and clinging, a reverent sweetheart’s kiss. Not at all the kind of fiery toe-curling performance I expected from him. Then he sighed against my lips and parted them, moving his tongue into my mouth and letting me meet him stroke for stroke, tasting and exploring.
My hands were on his shoulders to brace myself, but soon I had a hand curling around the back of his neck, my lips parting eagerly to let him in. I canted my hips forward and brought my chest flush with his. His arms came around me like iron bands and held me against his muscled form. I felt every cut ridge of his abs, the punishing swell of his pectorals and his powerful traps flexed when I held his shoulder.
He leaned forward, swamping me with his size and strength. With one final sweep of his tongue, Leo withdrew from me, leaving my flushed skin chilled and restless. I wriggled in protest and reached for him. He shook his head. He’d resisted all he could.
I panted from the exertion of restraint, and I saw that his eyes were nearly black with desire, his lips parted. I couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth, kissing first his upper lip and then the lower one, giving him light pecks as my lips clung to his. I thrummed with desire for him, and he took my hips and firmly put me away from him.
“You’re going to go home and dream about a new oven, but I’m going to lay there all night with my cock in my fist and never get any relief.”
“Let me,” I whispered, my mouth on his ear.
“No. Trust me, I want to, but no. Not like this. Not wound up in an empty café over a table,” he said. I could tell that he was struggling to string words together, that his fevered gaze and those hot, smooth hands were proof of how he was coming unraveled. I laid my hand on his cheek, the stubble at his jaw rasping against my palm, making my body tingle in response.
“I don’t know how to say what you are except that you feel important,” I said urgently, desperate for him to understand the truth of it. I pressed my lips to his again lightly, a soft moan of relief escaping me at the touch.
“This isn’t a hook up. If I didn’t want to be in your life after tonight, you can bet my zipper would be down by now. There’s nothing I can think of wanting more than I want that right at this minute.” Leo pressed his lips to my jaw, and my body responded.
Even that slight touch left me reeling. My breasts felt heavy and ached for his touch, a knot of needy longing built low in my belly, a deep pull that ended between my legs at the place I wanted him most. His hand was warm in the small of my back as my chest strained against his, my nipples flattened against the stark planes of his muscular chest.
“Madison,” he breathed against my temple. “God help me.”
I loved his whisper, that plea for divine intervention. Something in me felt a sharp feminine satisfaction that he was helpless in the face of my touch.