Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
She followed suit and moaned at the bubbly taste.
His gaze heated up at the sound, and she just knew a heated blush stained her cheeks. “I always was a sucker for champagne,” she murmured.
“I remember. You were a lightweight too.”
She shrugged. “I still am.” It didn’t take much alcohol to give her a buzz.
He placed his glass down on the table in front of them. She preferred to hold onto hers for security. Now that she was alone with him, butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.
“I needed this. Needed to be alone with you.” He reached out and wrapped a section of her hair around his finger and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the strands.
She felt the caress between her thighs, arousal and need alive and well inside her, an ache only Grey seemed capable of creating. “I’m glad we’re here too.”
“Could have fooled me,” he said in a gruff voice. “You tried damned hard to get out of it.”
He looked and sounded like a hurt little boy, and she couldn’t have that. “My rational side reminds me of how different we are.” She met his gaze, needing him to understand. “But I do want this time with you now, to catch up and get to know each other again.” But that’s all she’d admit to wanting, Avery thought.
“Good, because I want the same thing.” He eased closer, his arm snaking around behind her, the closeness and warmth of his body arousing her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Or maybe ever.
He took the glass out of her hands and placed it on the table. “I’ve moved here for good.”
His words took her off guard. “I thought for sure you’d end up back in LA.”
He shook his head. “Not happening. I’m here to stay. And since I am, I think we should move on to other things,” he said, the sexual innuendo in his tone clear.
“What things?” she asked in a husky tone.
“This.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, sliding his tongue over her lips. “Mmm. Champagne and you. Nothing sweeter,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, a sweet, seductive promise of things her body craved badly.
Her sex clenched, and she shifted in her seat, unable to ease the sudden ache between her thighs. Her hands drifted as she fought an inner battle—give in to what she wanted or let fear of losing again consume her.
He licked the corner of her mouth and slipped his tongue inside. Battle lost. She moaned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back, all the years of pent-up need and longing gone the instant she gave in.
He swept one hand into her hair, wrapping the long strands around his fist, the tug drawing a direct line to her sex. Dampness coated her panties, and her nipples hardened, aching for his touch. But he held her in place, taking his time, his lips devouring hers, his tongue thrusting in and out, sweeping through the deep recesses of her mouth. She was lost in sensation, lost in Grey.
Thunder sounded closer, but at this point, she couldn’t distinguish between the arousal rumbling through her brain and body and the weather outside. He kissed his way down her neck, her throat, his teeth grazing her skin, pausing at her collarbone to find the sensitive spot he’d always favored.
She curled her hands into his shirt as her head fell back and she gave into sensation.
“You taste like vanilla,” he muttered, licking his way across her chest, following the line of her shirt where it crested over her breasts.
It was the very best kind of tease, and she couldn’t do more than sigh his name. “Grey.”
“Missed you, sugar.”
She trembled in his arms. “I missed you too.” The admission hurt, because he’d left her, and the knowledge was always there, burrowed in her heart, next to the crack her father had left before him.
She pushed the thought away, reaching for him, her hand cupping his cheek. “It’s still there, isn’t it?” she asked, needing to know the intensity was as strong for him as it was for her.
His darkened gaze met hers, and he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “Stronger than ever.”
He braced her face in his hands and kissed her again—and again it went on, two people relearning and lost in long-forgotten and reawakened sensations. She threaded her fingers into his hair, running her palms over the shorter sides, tugging on the longer pieces on top.
He groaned and pulled her astride him, her sex now in direct contact with the heavy, thick bulge in his jeans. She arched her back and rocked lightly, the cresting waves inside her body as powerful as those surrounding the boat below.
Another crack of thunder sounded, this one louder, startling her, and she flinched at the noise. A streak of lightning lit the sky soon after.