Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
With his jaw tight and eyes hot, I realize my mistake. I also realize I’ve never had a man look at me the way he is right now. Hungry, heated, ravenous.
“It’s not lingerie,” I blurt like an idiot, then ramble, “Emma assured me it’s a top and on trend.”
Clearing his throat, he lifts his chin, acknowledging he heard me, and I quickly go to my blazer and put it on. When I turn back toward him, his hands are balled into fists at his sides like he’s holding himself in check, and I almost wonder what it would take to break him, to make him act out of character.
The kiss we shared was hot, and it was obvious from his reaction after that he didn’t mean for it to happen. Honestly, I’m curious what it would take for him to step out of character again and act on instinct alone. I want that—maybe more than I should.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
tucker
Watching Miranda’s ass as she gets into the passenger seat of my truck, I bite back a curse and grip the handle of the door, so I don’t fuck this up. I’ve never been one to lose control, but knowing what she has on under that fucking blazer she’s wearing is like holding a match next to a very short fuse. I don’t give a fuck what Emma told her about her top; it’s without a doubt lingerie and the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And if we were at a different place in this thing between us, I would have had her ass on the counter and spread open for me, wearing nothing but black lace.
“Are you okay?”
Coming out of my head, I find her buckled in, her eyes on me.
Shit.
“Yeah.” I step back and slam the door shut, then walk around the bed of my truck and get in behind the wheel. “Do you like Mexican?” Starting the engine, I look over at her, watching her unbutton front of her blazer, exposing lace and skin, and I grip the steering wheel. Her eyes ping from my hands, then back to mine again.
When her eyes flare and a subtle smirk forms on her lips, I don’t know what comes over me, but I snap. I unhook her belt with a quick flick and drag her toward me by the back of her neck, covering her mouth with mine.
She opens for me and whimpers down my throat as my tongue slips between her lips, and without losing my mouth, she climbs over the console between us and straddles my lap. Gripping her ass in one hand, I circle her throat with the other and tip her head back, working my tongue and teeth down her neck. She smells good and tastes better.
“Tucker,” she moans, her fingers tugging my hair when I pull the skin at the top of her breast between my lips.
“Fuck, Miranda.” I grab her waist when she rocks against my cock, then slide my hands up to cup her breasts that overflow my palms. She looks down at me, eyes half-mast, lips swollen, and kills me with four words.
“Take me back inside.”
I know I shouldn’t. I know I should place her in her seat and take her out to dinner like I planned. But the hunger in her gaze that matches my own has me taking the key out of the ignition and opening the door. Getting out with her wrapped around me is easier than it should be, and I don’t put her down until we reach her door. “Key,” I order, and she shakily gets it out of her bag, giving it to me.
As soon as I have the door open, I maneuver us both through, then slam it behind us and shove her against the wall. Her hands tug at my sweater, so I strip it off over my head, then rip her blazer off and toss it on the floor. Chest heaving, heart pounding, I take her in, trying to figure out where to start.
Dropping to my knees, I pull off her heels, then unhook her belt and look up at her with my fingers hovering over the button on her jeans. She nods, and I unclasp the button, rip down the zipper, and drag the material down her hips and thighs, tapping one calf, then the other for her to step out of them. Sliding my hands up the smooth skin of her legs that tremble under my touch, I sit back on my heels and pull her forward by the back of her thighs until I’m eye-level with her pussy.
Tipping my head back, I take her in. She looks like a wet dream, shoulders against the wall, her hair down, lace covering her from breasts to pussy. Leaning forward, I breathe her in and hear her gasp when I nudge my nose between her folds through the skimpy material. When she latches onto my hair, I shake my head and pull back.