Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Terrible way to describe all this, but…well, yes, it’s accurate,” he acquiesced. “And I’m not going to let either of you get hurt. If bullets start flying, I’ll be the one to take them.”
“That’s not a less terrible thing to say.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d prefer no bullets in your vicinity at all.”
“Well, hopefully there won’t be, but that’s the point, right?”
“What is?”
“I’m here for you.”
“You mean us.”
“No,” he made clear, “for you.”
“So what you’re saying is, if I wasn’t in danger, you would have let someone else come with Celia?”
“Yes.”
I tested the waters. “You’re such a good friend to do this for Alex.”
“It has nothing to do with him.”
“Oh? What does it have to do with?” I had to ask. I had to know. And with my innocuous question, I was suddenly out in the deep end, swimming into the wild, wild sea.
“It has to do with there being no one for the past six months.”
“Why are you so stuck on that?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What would have prompted me to do that? We’re not close, yeah?”
“Six months,” he repeated, sounding annoyed. “Fuck.”
I lifted my hand to his cheek, meaning to pat it, to say it was okay and thank him for worrying, but he covered it with his, turned his head, and kissed my palm.
Everything stilled.
He licked his lips and swallowed like he was nervous. I took in his hooded eyes and heard his breath catch, both reactions causing a quiver of excitement to run through me.
“Cord,” I whispered, sliding my hand from under his, around the back of his head, tangling my fingers in the thick hair at his nape, taking hold. “You want me.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling, and I felt the shudder go through him.
“You want me bad.”
“I just need a second to—”
Easing him forward, I sealed my lips over his. I wasn’t sure what he would have done otherwise. He always got close to me, and then something or someone would pull him away. We’d been interrupted more times than I could count. Just once, I wanted to taste him.
It was simple: there was a mere breath separating us, so I lifted and captured his mouth, taking what I wanted, kissing him hard, slipping my tongue between his parted lips, rubbing it seductively over his. The low moan from the man suffused me with heat as I registered that he was kissing me back roughly, mauling me, hands on my face, holding tight.
The whimper from the back of my throat sounded greedy, full of want, and I scared myself with my own hunger. Some of it was the sex drought, I could own that, but mostly it was Cord. I didn’t have the same kind of history with any other man, no lurking unfulfilled passion, no sexual tension that you could cut with a knife. Five years of desire flooded me, and because I was surprised, I tore free, panting softly, afraid of what I would do if I kept kissing him, so close to throwing my arms around his neck and climbing into his lap. At least the row adjacent to us was empty, and our seats were the last in the business class partition, so unless a flight attendant happened by, which they had no reason to at the moment, we were pretty much in our own cocoon.
Cord was staring at me, and even in the low light I could see his blown pupils and swollen lips.
I had to swallow before I could speak. “I’m sorry. You were being nice, and I took advantage.”
He got up abruptly, and I felt like such an ass. Groaning, I turned to the window.
Normally I would have run. Faced with an embarrassing situation, distance and time would have fixed it. But I was stuck, and even as I ran through scenarios, my mind kept tripping back to kissing Cord.
Dear God.
I always assumed the man knew what he was doing in bed. Everyone wanted him; he was quarry everywhere he went. I’d witnessed that more than once. Men who had been in bed with him once always wanted a repeat performance. But I also knew he never stuck around. He was the king of the one-night stand. None of that mattered, though, as I relived the kiss. The searing heat, his teeth on my bottom lip, how hard he sucked my tongue… I had gone boneless and needy in his arms. There was no question: whatever he wanted, I would give. And to me, after six months and being over Breckin, Cord wasn’t a rebound, but maybe to him… God.
I was horrified by my behavior, and worse, again, there was nowhere to run. Lifting my tray table and locking it in place, I then put my laptop away in my bag and shoved it back under Celia’s seat.
I was getting ready to go to the bathroom, needing at least that slight reprieve, when Cord said, “What are you doing?”