Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Instead, I’m going to soak up his time and attention so that when he does decide that whatever this is, is over, I’ll have the memories to keep me warm at night. Rip’s never been what some would call a player, but I’ve watched every girl in our high school practically throw themselves at him. He’s one of the good ones. The type of man that if you have the chance, you want to hold on tight and never let go. He’s going to realize that he can do better than a twenty-four-year-old attorney who is still in therapy from the shit her parents put her through. Granted, it’s every three or four months that I see her, but still. He can do better.
He deserves better.
“I’m going to set the lamp on the bathroom counter but leave the door open. That way, we can see to get to the restroom if we need to,” Rip explains as he walks to the bathroom, pushing open the door and setting the lamp on the counter.
“Do you have a side?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter when I plan to hold you.” He shrugs and walks to the opposite side of the bed I’m standing on and climbs in.
He has no idea what his words do to me. Then again, maybe he does. Rip Callahan is a man’s man. He’s rugged, and basically the definition of masculine. He works hard, and it shows. He didn’t get those washboard abs from a gym. He got them from hard work and dedication to his family’s farm.
“Kenna.” His deep, gruff voice calls to me as he pulls the blankets back and motions for me to join him.
My knees wobble as I climb into bed and lie on my side to face him. It’s dark, only a tiny glow from the bathroom giving us light. It’s not enough to make out his features or his gorgeous brown eyes. That’s okay. I have them memorized.
“Are you tired?” he whispers.
“A little,” I confess. However, it’s probably going to take me some time to fall asleep with him next to me.
“Rollover, Kenna,” he instructs.
I do as he asks, resting my hands beneath my cheek. There’s a dip in the mattress, and then I’m surrounded by warmth and the smell of sandalwood, along with something uniquely Rip. He slides his arm under my head, and I adjust my position. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I’m relieved when he takes the decision away from me and laces his fingers through mine.
We lie in silence for what seems like hours. I try to keep my focus on his breathing to match mine instead of focusing on the fact that the man I’ve always wanted is holding me in his arms. In his bed. For the second time in a matter of weeks. I’ve heard the saying that you never really get over your first crush, your first love. Rip is that person for me.
Do I love him? Yes. He’s been a part of my life since I was six years old.
Am I in love with him? No. I’m not in love with him, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that if there are many more nights like this one, that could change. It would take very little effort for my heart to be twisted with his. Hell, the way mine is racing in my chest by just being near him, it may have already started to take root.
“I’ve missed you.” His husky whisper causes goose bumps to break out against my skin.
I feel his lips press against my shoulder, and my mind immediately goes to our kiss. Just a peck, but I wanted more. I still want more. Maybe it’s the alcohol making me brave. Maybe it’s just him, and maybe it’s that I’ve missed him too. Whatever the reason, I turn in his arms, placing my hand against his cheek.
“Rip?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Yeah, baby?” His voice is velvety soft.
“Kiss me?”
No more words are said as he leans in and molds his lips to mine. He’s not in a hurry as he nibbles at my bottom lip, soothing the ache with his tongue. His large, calloused hand slides under my T-shirt and presses against my back, moving me impossibly closer to him and his warmth. I release a moan that I can’t hold in, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past my lips. I expect him to move things along, but he does anything but. Instead, his tongue lazily explores my mouth while his hand traces up and down my spine. It’s the slowest, most sensual kiss I’ve ever received in my entire life.
I never want it to end.
He kisses me until we’re both breathless. I want more. I want all of him. I’m just about to make my move when he pulls back and guides my head to rest on his chest. He wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to the top of my head.