Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Then he pushes up and off the workout bench and starts to walk toward me. My breath arrests in my chest as I hold perfectly still, slightly scared, but mostly just hopeful that he’ll ignore everything I’ve said and be done with this foreplay. I want him to shove me up against the door and seal our bodies together. It would be a painful fall afterward, but I’d have the memory of his lips on mine to tide me over for a good long while.
With only a few long strides, he reaches me and it’s all so suddenly overwhelming—the intoxicating scent of his aftershave, his sheer size dwarfing me against the door, that burning hot need building inside me—I let my eyes flutter closed as I wait for it to happen.
The final death blow.
I nearly sway forward off balance as my hands fist by my sides.
Long seconds pass…
But it doesn’t come.
He doesn’t haul me off the ground and pin me to the door. My dress doesn’t get shredded to smithereens. My eyes peek open to find he’s peering down at me admiringly, reverently. There’s no hint of playful boy left in him. He’s a man possessed as he reaches out to take a piece of my hair between his fingers. He rubs the soft strands for only a moment before he drops it. Then he slowly lifts his hands and weaves his fingers through my long hair. He rubs my scalp, and it feels heavenly—like the best part of getting your hair washed at a salon—but instead of continuing on with the massage, he suddenly ruffles my hair, mussing it all up.
I frown. “Wh—what are you doing?”
He tousles my hair once more then drops his hands and assesses his work.
“Do you want this to look real or not? If you walk out of here as put together as you are right now, your friends will know in an instant that this never happened.”
“Oh! Oh. God. Good point.”
Hot and smart.
“Now hold still and let me make it look real.”
“You’re bossy.”
His eyes catch mine in battle. It’s like he’s saying, And? Your point?
Sweet Jesus. I look away, not even bothering to deny I like this side of him. Why would I? I’m sure he can read me like an open book.
Once I’ve officially got “bedhead”, he moves on to my dress. One strap is slid off my shoulder while a cascade of goose bumps tingles across my skin. Then he grips the silky material at my waist and takes it in his fist, probably trying to wrinkle it, sure, but he’s also exposing so much of my leg it’s obvious he’s testing the limits of how far he can push this. He stares down at my tan thighs as my dress slides up even more. My panties are right there.
Terrified, I cover his hand and squeeze. “Surely that’s enough.”
He shakes his head, like he’s snapping out of a trance. Then he releases my dress, and it’s oh-so-perfectly wrinkled.
I smile. “Good work.”
He nods.
“Hair, check.”
As I say this, I take liberties with his hair too, ruffling the thick, soft strands enough that it looks like I’ve had my wicked way with him too.
“Clothes, check.”
I reach for his shirt to try to wrinkle it like he did my dress, but it’s some luxurious cotton blend that withstands my grasp. Figures. My efforts aren’t in vain though because I do catch a glorious glimpse of his hard abs, and I immediately retract my statements from earlier about funny guys versus buff guys. Jokes, good. Muscles, gooder.
He chuckles while my mouth hangs open a little bit.
I’m reduced to three brain cells as I confirm what I already knew: this guy’s body is insane. It’s less like he lives at the gym and more like he spends his days doing manual labor. Maybe he’s not the tech guy. Maybe he’s the tech guy’s personal lumberjack. City folk need firewood too, right?
I glance up at him. “Now what?”
His gaze drops to my lips and my belly swoops.
Oh right.
My makeup is still perfectly intact. I swiped on a dark berry lipstick earlier, and our brief kiss out by the bar didn’t smudge it in the least.
Panic spikes my blood. I know what he’s planning.
“I could always tell them we didn’t kiss…you know…you were against it or something…” My voice lilts up, light and hopeful.
He shakes his head like he doesn’t just dislike the idea, he hates it. “I would have kissed you.”
The way he says this—with absolute certainty—it’s like he’s incensed. It’s so unbelievably sexy I don’t even bother hiding my reaction.
A half laugh, half pant spills out of me. My flush only spreads…
Oh god.
Panic-stricken, I reach up and rub my mouth hard, trying to simultaneously get rid of my lipstick and make my lips bloom with color.
Please, oh please…
His brows furrow, and like a striking boa constrictor, he captures my wrist and then gently peels my hand away from my mouth. My chest rises and falls with unsteady breaths as he takes a step toward me. Slowly, teasingly, our hips meet as he backs me up against the door.