Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
His hand trails up my arm, leaving a swell of goosebumps along the path.
I don’t speak as his eyes roam over my body. I’m not exposed, having pulled the blanket back up to my chin after brushing my teeth, something I’m regretting right now. When I’m naked, he seems incapable of looking away, and I love that level of attention from him. I crave it and could possibly just lie here for the remainder of my days if I was all that he could focus on.
“What time do you go in today?” I ask, my voice an octave higher than normal.
Embarrassment threatens to heat my cheeks when his lips twitched with a smile.
“Not as early as you,” he says, his voice soft and husky as usual.
Jesus. Has he always used that bedroom voice on me? It’s smokey and rough, each syllable feeling like a caress on my skin.
“I was thinking about skipping,” I say, licking at my dry lips and wishing he’d lean closer so we could kiss.
The soft smile he gives me tells me everything I need to know. He isn’t here to entice me or ask me to change my schedule for him. Clearly, he’s more responsible than I am, or maybe he isn’t even tempted at all. Maybe he wants me gone and is just too much of a gentleman to say it out loud.
I sit up in a rush, feeling like a fool for even considering things I know better than to think.
The covers pool around my waist, but before I can crawl off the bed to grab my clothes, his hand sweeps down, carving a path from my collarbone to my peaked nipple. I barely clamp my mouth closed in time when he pinches the tip with just enough force to awaken every other cell in my body.
“I’d take you up on that offer if you didn’t have that class tonight.”
I blink at him, my brain struggling to come back online long enough to understand what he’s referring to.
“Class? Oh crap.”
“Yeah, oh crap,” he responds. “If you called in sick today, you couldn’t do the class, and half the town would be on your doorstep, bringing you lemon-lime soda, crackers, and chicken noodle soup because they wouldn’t want you to close two days in a row.”
“But I’m not home.” I clamp my lips between my teeth, hating that the words escaped unchecked. I sound like a desperate horndog right now.
His smile widens, his fingers tracing over my rib cage, and I swear my back arches into his touch. I’m fixated on those traveling fingers of his.
“How many people were signed up for your class?”
I deflate with the question.
“A dozen,” I answer, knowing I could never disappoint that many people.
As much as I’d like to stay in bed with him, getting tangled in his sheets for hours and hours, I know I can’t. I’m too responsible for that, too much of a people pleaser. Most days, I don’t hate that aspect of my personality, but being considerate of others seems more like a flaw than a redeemable quality right now.
His chuckle grabs ahold of me, preventing me from standing fully as I attempt to climb past him.
“You’ll trip over that lip,” he says, his hand brushing over my face.
Before my body understands what he’s doing, he clamps my chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can guide my mouth to his.
The kiss is patient and slow, giving me the chance for my brain and body to get on the same wavelength.
I grant his tongue entrance the second he presses it forward. A surge of arousal hits me like a tsunami when he groans, the vibration moving through me like an electrical current.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I attempt to settle on to him, my body aching with need as much as it’s aching from the time we’ve spent together this last week.
“That’s dangerous,” he says, his lips brushing mine as he speaks. “We’ll never leave this room.”
He grips my hips, moving me to stand rather than letting me straddle his legs.
I know it isn’t meant as a rejection, but you’d never be able to convince my body that it isn’t.
“I’m supposed to be the reasonable one,” I say, that pout he mentioned earlier growing.
He brushes his thumb over my cheek before pressing a too-chaste kiss to my lips as he stands.
“We’ll see each other soon,” he promises. “You’re already going to be late.”
I glance over his shoulder at the clock on his bedside table, that feeling of dread settling inside of me. Worry threatens to take over.
“Nope,” he tells me, his finger curling under my chin and directing me to look at him. “You’re not going to freak out. You’re going to go grab a quick shower. You keep a change of clothes at the bakery for situations like this.”