Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I wet my lips and allow my pulse to trip over itself, then I slide in between Gunner and the kitchen counter, the fly of his expensive dress pants dragging across my bare stomach.
Immediately, I’m pinned by that gray, hooded gaze. The one that made him a billionaire many times over in the finance world. It’s ruthless. Sharp. It almost makes me lose my nerve. But I don’t. I hold onto my courage and reach up to loosen his burgundy tie. “You can’t work so hard all the time, Papa Bear,” I murmur, using the nickname I’ve been using since middle school. It’s been a while since I said it out loud. It’s so fitting, though, for this big bear of a man. “You have to have a little fun sometimes, don’t you think?”
“Josie…” His tone holds a stern warning. “What are you doing?”
I succeed in taking off his tie, then trail the silk down between my breasts, finally—finally—drawing his eye there. A muscle jumps in his cheek when I arch my back a little. “Just having some fun,” I whisper, dropping the tie in favor of sliding my hands up the front of his starched, white button-down shirt. “I hate seeing you so stressed.”
This I’m not lying about. At all.
Gunner works seven days a week. Never takes a break, unless it’s his son’s birthday.
I am worried about his stress level. It’s not just a ruse to get closer.
He has always been a steady presence in my life and I care about him. A lot.
“I’m fine, Josie,” Gunner says through his teeth. “And you shouldn’t be standing so close to me. Your hands shouldn’t be—”
He breaks off when I pop open one of his buttons. “Oops,” I say, blinking innocently. “Bet you feel better already without this thing buttoned all the way to your throat. Don’t you ever wear a T-shirt?”
“Don’t you ever wear a skirt that covers your tight little teenage ass?” Gunner poses the question in a rush—and immediately regrets it, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. What you wear is none of my business.”
I can barely breathe. “But you…noticed. You notice what I wear? I can never tell—”
“This whole conversation is goddamn inappropriate.” With a jerky movement, he rebuttons the top of his shirt. “Go back to the den. Now.”
Well aware that my window of opportunity is shrinking by the second, I disobey him, hopping up and backwards onto the counter, gratified beyond words when Gunner watches my breasts bounce, his throat working in a rough pattern when I inch my thighs open, just a little. Just enough that he can see the pink lace of my thong. “I’m having a better time right here with you.” I lean back on my hands and shift my right knee side to side, hiding my panties from him, showing them, hiding. “Aren’t you having a good time with me, Papa Bear?”
“No,” he growls.
Now who’s lying?
We both look down at the same time, at his colossal erection, then back at each other.
“That doesn’t mean I want to…” He drags a hand down his face and shoves my legs together with determination, his touch shooting electricity all the way up my thighs. “I just haven’t been with a woman since the divorce. After a decade, it’s a normal reaction to being…”
“Tempted?” I lean forward, taking the lapels of his shirt in my hands, pulling him closer despite his resistance. Despite the way he growls my name in that low, warning manner. And I settle my mouth over the top of his hard lips. Inhaling. Exhaling. “Are you tempted?”
He shakes his head, but those lips come back to mine, not kissing me, but making my heart rejoice nonetheless. “You’re my son’s friend, Josie. Less than half my age. I golf with your father, for godsakes.” Too briefly, he squeezes my knees, letting his thumb brush along the sensitive insides. Slightly higher to my inner thighs. With a shaky curse, he backs away abruptly, using his pocket square to dab at the sweat on his forehead. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, little girl. But it ends now. You stay where you belong—with your friends.”
I should be disappointed, but I’m not.
He slipped. Finally. He admitted he notices me. He let our mouths touch. Stroked my thighs. This might have gone further if it wasn’t for his notorious restraint. I’m almost trembling with euphoria at this development. Wishing I would have pushed a little sooner. Wishing I had talked myself into being brave. This man I love so fiercely…he’s tempted. Attracted.
He’s also just thrown up a forty-foot wall between us.
I’ve never been so determined to climb it. To reveal my love. My devotion.
Eventually. When he’s not ready to throw me out of his kitchen.
With more confidence than I had upon entering the dim room, I slide off the counter, letting my skirt drag up all the way to my hips, reveling in the way he stifles a groan, using the pocket square on the back of his thick neck now. Keeping eye contact with my best friend’s father, I bite my lip and peel the lacy pink thong down my legs, stepping out of it. Dangling it from my index finger and giving him a few seconds to look at me there. Naked. Impressing upon him that I’m a grown woman now. With an itty bitty landing strip.