Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“It’s working!” Anderson cheered. His future in-laws had already left for the rehearsal part of the evening, and he skedaddled after them, leaving us with a lull before the dinner guests started arriving.
“Hey, Zeb.” Atlas tapped me on the shoulder as I was checking the A/V setup one last time. “Do you know anything about the champagne delivery? The father of the bride was worried about us running low on the bottles they custom requested.”
I straightened and turned to face him. “Let’s go check the storeroom.”
Dutifully leading the way to the storeroom where we housed extra liquor, wine, and beer for catered events, I flipped on the light right as Atlas closed the door.
“I think the champagne is right over—” I pointed to a stack of wine crates only to be cut off by Atlas pinning me against the wall. “What the—”
“Hi.” He grinned at me, as mischievous as I had ever seen him. Tracing my lower lip with the broad pad of his thumb, he hissed out a breath when I lightly nipped his finger. And then he replaced his thumb with his warm and willing mouth, a kiss so hot it was a wonder the beer kegs didn’t blow. Me too. Coming in my work pants from nothing more than an unexpected kiss would be all kinds of embarrassing, so I reluctantly pulled away.
“What was that?” My voice came out slightly winded and dazed.
“Something to hold you for later.” He grinned at me again, the sort of smile that made ill-timed orgasms seem like a worthy risk. Lord, I would follow this man anywhere, anytime. I simply wanted him. I smiled back as he continued, “Sorry. You looked so cute when you got the A/V equipment working, I had to kiss you.”
“I like that you did.” Living dangerously, I kissed him back. Being Atlas, he wasn’t content to let me give him a relatively chaste peck. No, he had to go and claim my mouth for a deeper, more intense, more intimate exploration. Each time our tongues met, sparks zoomed down my spine, rendering me hard and needy and panting his name. “So, no champagne emergency?”
“Nah.” Atlas shrugged, pushing his body closer against mine. “I located the missing bottles on my own.”
“I think I prefer kissing emergencies anyway.” I gave him another fast kiss that again turned into a meandering journey back to hard-and-ready town. “Really better stop. We need to get back out there.”
“Yeah.” He gave me one last kiss, this one softer and sweeter than the royal icing Nix had prepared for the cookie buffet. Ironically, the fleeting goodbye kiss proved way more devastating than the intense-but-brief make-out session. It lingered in my brain as I went about the rest of the prep and started greeting early guests.
Surely Atlas felt something more than curiosity or friendship, right? There was no way he could kiss with that much emotion otherwise. Or so I hoped, and round and round my brain whirred until Betsy Zimmerman found me arranging dinner items for the buffet.
“We’ve got a cookie disaster,” she announced with all the gravity of an incoming asteroid.
“Run out of icing?” I hoped it was that simple even as my stomach clenched. The plan had been to have the decorating station out as an icebreaker before the dinner and then serve the cookies as dessert.
“Nope. Some of the bridesmaids turned the shapes into inappropriate displays, and Mom is pissed.”
“Huh.” I followed her over to the table. “That’s definitely not a Santa anymore. And I never thought of using a reindeer head shape for…that.”
“How are we supposed to get pictures of these?” Mrs. Zimmerman wailed as she joined us. “Some are downright lewd.”
“How about I see if there is a fresh tray we can use for more family-friendly cookies?” I crossed my fingers. Nix was usually pretty good about preparing extras for emergencies, and this definitely qualified. “The bridesmaid ones can be jokes saved for the bachelorette party?”
“I love it,” Betsy said quickly before her mother could start in with a fresh wail.
As I brought out the new tray, Atlas approached us with a drink for Mrs. Zimmerman.
“Thought you might need another White Russian.” He gave her a patient smile as he handed over the drink.
“Thank you,” Betsy said quietly to Atlas and me as her mother returned to hostess duties, drink in hand. “You guys make a great team.”
“We do.” I glanced over at Atlas, who nodded. As amazing as everything happening in my bed was, the ease with which we worked together was equally rewarding. Whether it was navigating party disasters here, the whole air mattress fiasco, or the gaming tips I’d been giving him after work and before bed, we got along great. I genuinely enjoyed his company, and miraculously, he didn’t seem sick of me yet either.