Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I say after a long pause.
Her smile is confident as it spreads across her face, sassy and crazily attractive. She throws her arms around my shoulders, careful not to touch the tattoo, and stands on her tiptoes, bringing her lips to mine.
“Why do I get the feeling you just had some very bad thoughts?”
My hands magnetize to her ass. It’s the lust in her voice, the breathiness of it. There’s so much hunger inside me trying to burst free, a growling, thundering call that’s nearly impossible to ignore.
She moans through the kiss as I massage her ass, pulling her dress up, then groaning as I place my hand against her bare skin. So thick, so goddamn juicy, I’m aching for her, the base of my shaft almost hurting with the seed rushing up.
After a minute or so, she steps away. I can tell it’s an effort for her from her frantic breathing.
“Do I smell that bad?” I joke.
“No,” she says seriously, biting her lip for a moment, driving more desire into my full-as-fuck balls. “I like the way you smell, honestly.”
I smirk. “It’s a special cologne called Sleeping In Your Car.”
She laughs, then steps forward. “I just think I might lose control too.”
I hug her, trying to keep my hands above the waist. “I wouldn’t exactly complain.”
“We said we’d tell Dad first.” She swallows as if the words are painful. “But maybe… breakfast first?”
I get what she’s doing. A delaying tactic, but I can’t lie. I want to do the same. Put off the inevitable and make it so we don’t have to shatter Roger’s world just yet. There’s space to breathe and room to enjoy what we have before it’s wrenched away.
Guilt should seep through me at these thoughts. I should picture Roger as a kid, his hand extended, offering me help when nobody else did, but I can’t think about anything else with my woman in front of me.
“It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist,” I tell her, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. “When I’m with you, it’s like working on the world’s most complicated tattoo. You’re all I can focus on. Nothing else matters. Not when I can feel you, smell you, taste you…”
We kiss for a long time, but it’s a different sort. I’m holding back wave upon wave of fierce hunger, going slowly, our tongues softly caressing each other.
“Is that a yes or no to breakfast?” She grins in between kisses. “Not that this kiss isn’t nourishing…”
I chuckle. “Let’s go, Evie.”
“Does it hurt?” she asks when I pull on my shirt.
I shake my head. “It stings a little, but not much. Maybe you’ll let me tattoo you one day.”
“Yeah? What would you draw?”
“A word. Just one.”
“Hmm?”
“Mine.”
“This seems a bit overkill for breakfast,” Evie says as we ride the elevator toward the rooftop garden.
The elevator is glass, looking down on the hotel’s inner courtyard. Rows of gleaming windows pass us as we ascend to the top. We’re the only ones in the elevator, but I stand a few feet from her since it’s glass, and people might see. It makes me ache to be so close, but we have to do this, knowing that I could reach out and touch her hip, hand, shoulder, and sweet-as-hell ass.
“Nothing’s overkill for you,” I say, “and it’s been a productive morning, anyway. I scared a wannabe tough guy and got a tattoo from the girl of my dreams. I think we’ve earned a good meal.”
“Am I really that? The girl of your dreams?”
I reach out and almost loop my arm around her, then stop myself. She spots the movement, laughing shakily. “It’s not easy, is it?”
“No,” I say gruffly. “Being close to you but unable to touch you is torture.”
“Just imagine how I felt all those years,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.”
“What did I say about apologizing?” I snarl. “You should feel comfortable talking about the crush. You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide anything from me because you don’t. Not anymore.”
The doors open. The hostess greets us with a broad smile. Once she leads us to a table in the corner of the garden, overlooking the whole city, Evie picks at the table with her fingernail.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just realizing how jealous I am. That hostess wasn’t flirting, but I still wanted to tell her to leave you alone. Does that make me completely crazy?”
“Maybe,” I smirk, “but if that’s the case, I’m insane, too. We can be crazy, jealous lovers together. How does that sound?”
“That sound like a plan.” She beams, having no idea how beautiful and captivating she is. “So, what are you going to have? Wait, there are no prices on this menu.”
“It’s that sort of place,” I tell her.
“But Brian, you’re opening a new studio. The building work isn’t even done yet. I’ll happily eat at a greasy spoon.”