Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
She looks at me and smiles. “Apparently, your mom buys this fancy fudge sometimes—he specifically mentioned pistachio—and he keeps that fork there so he doesn’t have to keep walking to the other side of the kitchen for one. That way he can just slide it over and take a bite.” She laughs. “He demonstrated it. Said it saves him time.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“I was hoping you were going to say that.”
Pippa saunters across the room. Her lips press together to hide a smile.
I hum as she grows closer. My heart thumps erratically, and my mind tries to accept that this is really happening.
Having her in my house, looking at me like this, is the culmination of every dream I’ve ever had. Only, in my dreams, I was unable to fully appreciate how satisfying this moment would be—how wild and unbelievable and confusing and amazing.
And how it all makes sense.
Normally, if a woman was here with me, I’d be getting down to business. My mind would be on fucking her for the sport of it. Enjoying my bachelorhood. Making her come so hard that she screams—just to know I can do it—then getting off, and then getting on with the day.
It’s lust, a chemical rush, a physical interaction that doesn’t extend any further than the moment I pull out.
Throwing the condom in the trash is the period at the end of that sentence.
Done.
But I’m not quite sure how to process this.
This isn’t the same.
With Pippa, I want to savor every moment. Take my time, try things—discover what she likes. I want to please her, show her how fucking beautiful she is, and then do it again.
I want this to be the bar she uses to measure every sexual experience.
And I want all those experiences to be with me.
I’ve fallen for her. I fell for her before I could drive a car. I just need to convince her that she should give me a chance—that maybe she could fall for me too.
“Did you think I was saying I’m sorry to you?” I ask.
She stops a few feet in front of me. “Yeah. That’s what you said.”
“What would I be apologizing to you for?”
I roll my tongue around my mouth as a cocky little grin graces those lips that will be wrapped around my cock soon enough.
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe you were sorry for leaving me hanging earlier.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Jess …” My name is half desperation and half annoyance.
“I seem to remember somebody running her hands all over me, brushing her chest across the back of my neck—telling my family you like my big cock and that you hope I keep it while you’re around.”
She giggles. “Come on. That was a good one.”
I lift a brow.
“Your dad even thought it was funny,” she says.
“That’s a low bar. Trust me.”
She holds my gaze as she rests her ass on the armrest of the couch. Her dress sticks to her body thanks to the humidity on our short walk back to my house, revealing the true depth of her curves.
Dammit, I want her. My fingers itch to feel her skin. I want to feel her pulse around me, knowing I made her feel good. I’m dying to look into her eyes and watch as she gives up control to me. That she trusts me enough to do that.
That she would do that for me.
She slowly licks her Cupid’s bow. “What’s your excuse now?”
“Excuse for what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“Why are you standing over there? And why do I still have my clothes on?”
Dig deep, Carmichael. Don’t give in to her. Not yet.
I lift the bottom of my shirt up and over my head. I toss it at her as I walk to the kitchen.
“Ugh!” She gasps, her bare feet smacking against the floor as she trails me closely. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
I hide a smile. “I’m thirsty.”
“So am I.”
I peek at her over my shoulder and catch the almost feral look in her eyes. I can’t help it. I laugh.
“This isn’t funny, Jess.”
I open the fridge, keeping my back to her so she doesn’t see the amusement on my face. “You want a drink?”
“No, I don’t want a damn drink.”
“Oh. I thought you said you were thirsty?”
“You know what I meant.”
I take a bottle of water and close the refrigerator. “You don’t sound very happy, Pip.”
Her gaze blazes a trail from my head all the way down to my groin. She may as well use a hot iron because my flesh tingles in its wake.
My cock throbs, and I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I didn’t know I had this much restraint to begin with—let alone when it comes to her. Because in my lowest moments, when I’ve dreamed about being with her, I’ve had her in every position known to man.