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)
As I start to walk around the truck, Tucker grasps my wrist, using his hold to spin me around to face him. My breath catches as his hand wraps around my throat, and he walks me backward until I’m pressed up against the trunk of my car. Heart thundering against my ribcage, my eyes slide closed when his mouth lands on mine, and I whimper at the taste of him when his tongue slips past my lips. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s wet and deep, and by the time he pulls back, I’m desperate for more and starved for oxygen.
“I needed that,” he mutters, rolling his thumb over my bottom lip, and my lashes flutter open, finding his gaze roaming over my face.
I swallow as I watch him. I’ve never had someone seem so determined to keep their hands off me yet so desperate to touch me within the same breath. It’s as unnerving as it is exhilarating that I have that kind of power over him.
“What are you thinking?” he asks softly, and I rest my hands on his chest.
“That I like it when you break your cover.”
“Pardon?”
“You do this thing where it’s like you fight to keep from touching me, but you can only last for so long before you give in to the urge.”
“That’s accurate.” He slides his hand back down to my neck, and his fingers press into where my pulse is thumping.
“Is it?”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Is that it?” I look into his eyes, and memories of him being the complete opposite of a gentleman flash through my mind. Even the mere thought has my thighs trembling.
“It’s that look right there that makes it difficult.” He takes a step back, holding his hands at his sides. “Let’s go feed your boy.”
“Yeah.” I take a shaky breath and let him lead me around to my door. Once I’m seated, he closes me inside and walks around the hood. Reaching for my seatbelt, my eyes connect with Bowie’s disgust-filled ones. I had no idea he was still parked in his cruiser a few empty spaces over.
If I had…
I drag in a breath.
I wouldn’t have done anything differently, because I’m not doing anything wrong, and I refuse to feel bad for being happy or for kissing a guy I like, who seems to feel the same about me.
Finishing with my belt, Tucker gets in behind the wheel, and I look back at Kingston, who’s distracted by the game he keeps in his cup holder, one where you press the button and try to get a round hoop on the nose of a dolphin in the water.
“Are you ready to go eat, lovie?”
“I’ve been weady,” he says without looking at me, and I press my lips together, hearing Tucker make a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.
Looking at him, I shake my head, saying quietly, “You know he’s only going to be four. The sarcasm is slightly concerning, given I have years before he’s an actual teenager.”
“He’s a kid.” He looks over at me as he backs out of my parking space. “He knows he can be himself with you. It’s not a bad thing.” He puts the engine in drive.
With a sigh, I face the windshield. “You’re probably right, but I still think I need to be worried,” I mumble and catch him smile out the corner of my eye as his hand wraps around mine so he can drag it across the console to his thigh.
Keeping it there securely with his palm over it, he drives us the short distance to the restaurant, the conversation light, mostly about what Kingston and I did today and a little about Miles and his daughter Winter.
When we arrive at the restaurant, he carries Kingston inside because he refuses to walk, and the three of us place our orders. We find a booth and get settled, with Kingston and me on one side and Tucker across from us.
Like most of the times when we are out to eat, Kingston asks for his iPad and headphones as soon as we are seated, and I give them to him. I’m sure some parenting guru would probably tell me I shouldn’t—it’s also something I said I would never do if I had a kid, before I actually knew what having a kid was like. But one thing I learned quickly when Kingston was old enough to walk and talk is I would rather have him distracted by a show during a meal than creating havoc and climbing all over the place.
Hearing the ping of a text, I look across the table at Tucker and watch his mouth flatten into a hard line as he checks the screen.
“Everything okay?” He glances at Kingston, whose ears are covered, then his gaze comes back to mine.