Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Like it says in the song “Electric Love” by BØRNS, I feel like lightning trapped in a bottle when I’m around him. My whole body is tingling, my heart thundering in my chest, and my hands shake as I hold my phone up in front of us. I lean it against one of his full beer bottles—since he grabs two at a time, so he doesn’t have to stop playing. We’re sitting on the couch. He’s playing his game while I watch and suggest where he can hide, while I crochet. It’s our lazy Sunday that’s about to catch on fire in seconds if the story I’ve made up in my head is true.
I tap his hard thigh. He’s wearing short shorts since his leg is in a brace, and he hates how hot he gets when he wears pants. He broke his kneecap and is out for the rest of the season. He’s been quite a dick about it, which could play into why he was so mad about Dart and me. Hmm… Maybe I shouldn’t do this?
Before I can lose my lady balls, I say, “Hey, look at the camera. I want to send our moms a video.”
He knocks off his headset. “Of me with a busted knee and you crocheting another blanket?”
I send him a wide grin. “Yes, exactly.”
He rolls his eyes but leans in when I hit play. “Electric Love” fills the space between us, and I watch as his brows draw in. I mouth the words, being goofy, but beside me, he’s watching the screen intently. It’s almost like he knows what I am doing, but he doesn’t have TikTok. He doesn’t know this trend; he can’t. I turn before the crescendo of the song kicks off, the moment when you’re supposed to kiss your best friend. He turns too, his heated gaze meeting mine. Flecks of green swirl around his blown-out pupils, leaving me breathless.
I’m unsure who kisses whom first.
One second, I’m lost in his eyes, and then I watch as he reaches up to turn his cap backward.
Holy hot fuck.
But I can’t even fully process his sexy man motion before his lips are on mine. He cups my jaw as he holds me where he wants me and devours my lips. I have kissed many boys in my twenty-five years, but nothing could have prepared me for Thatcher’s lips. They’re soft but demanding, leading the butterflies in my belly to soar to full flight. He cups my neck with his other hand as his tongue slides along my lips, and I open greedily for him. His taste is one I wasn’t prepared for. It’s not only beer but mint and him. Thatcher. I moan into his mouth, and his grip tightens at my neck and jaw. The song has ended, but I refuse to do anything but kiss the man I have wanted my whole damn life.
Again, I know that’s a silly thought. But I’m pretty sure when they put us in our cribs in the nursery when we were born, they put us beside each other because we each needed the other. I have a very active imagination, if you can’t tell.
I slide my hands up his neck, threading my fingers into his hair at the back of his neck before knocking his cap off. It tumbles beside us, but it doesn’t break our kiss. No, I don’t think anything can. He lets go of my neck to snake his arm around my waist before pulling me into his lap. I straddle him, our lips still not parting as my center comes to settle against the very hard length of his cock.
Well, damn.
I let out a little mewl of a noise before I move myself over every inch of him. He hisses against my lips, breaking our kiss as our eyes meet in an inferno of desire. I should say something, he should, but neither of us utters a word. Instead, I feel my heart race as he stops the video I was recording on my phone then reaches for my shirt, pulling it off with ease. He tosses it to the side, pulling down the cup of my bra and covering my sensitive nipple with his hot mouth. I let my head fall back as I moan loudly, his fingers digging into my ass as he grinds himself against my center. It all feels so out of this world, and nothing like what I imagined being with Thatcher would be like.
It’s more.
So much more.
I cry out when he takes the waistband of my sleep shorts and tears them without a second thought. My panties are next as I let out another meep, and then he throws the remnants of my shorts and panties to the floor.
Again, holy hot fuck.
He slaps my ass, the sting making me hiss before his heated eyes meet mine. “Stand up,” he demands. And listen, this dude could tell me to do a handstand as I suck his cock, and I would.