Just One More Touch Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
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“What?” Emma asks with a hint of desperation in her voice. I chuckle at the disbelief in her voice. They’re leaving you with me, sweetheart.

“See ya!” Sandra calls out as she practically jogs out of the room. Tony gives me a nod on his way out, looking at me for my reaction. The car keys are in his hand, but I don’t reach for them. We always take my car when we meet clients, but Tony likes to drive. I don't mind it. I settle back in my seat and return his nod.

He gives me an amused look and shakes his head somewhat as he catches up to Sandra. I’ll let them think whatever they want right now. I just wanna be alone with Emma. I watch as he sets the keys on the coffee table and keeps moving.

Emma perks up real fucking quick, looking at her sister with wide eyes, but she’s staring at her back, 'cause Sandra’s already on the move and ignoring the obvious murderous look Emma’s giving her behind her back.

I take another puff and let the smoke settle in my lungs. It should be hitting me soon.

I can’t take my eyes off Emma as she watches the two of them walk out, leaving her alone with me.

CHAPTER 3

Emma

I bite down on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I've always had. I can't believe Sandra left me here with him. My heart is racing, and I feel like I can barely breathe.

I can't look at Derek without all of the memories I have with him flooding into my mind. All of those afternoons spent talking and making out in that beat up car.

His Honda was our safe place. I’d go wherever he took me. We just wanted to get away.

Me from my parents' fighting, and him from something, although I don't know what. He never wanted to go home. He wouldn’t tell me why.

I can feel his piercing gaze on me as I turn back toward the TV, barely breathing. A shiver runs through my body as I swallow thickly.

All of those study periods sitting next to each other, all of those late nights spent talking on the phone. It’s all coming back to me. I close my eyes slowly, concentrating on breathing.

“You wanna hit?” he asks as the sounds of Tony and Sandra running up the stairs fade into the background.

I force myself to look at him as he takes another puff of his blunt. My mouth parts to say something, but nothing comes out. This is so fucking awkward.

“No.” I breathe the word, playing with the edge of the chenille throw on the sofa. I take a deep breath and try to calm down.

“I don’t smoke. Thanks though,” I say shakily. I debate on saying something to break this tension. But I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I left you all those years ago. It sucks. I loved the way I felt with you, but I was scared. Are you still a drug dealer? Jesus, I can’t say any of that. It’s been five years. And he isn’t bringing it up, so I’m sure as fuck not going to.

He takes another short hit and readjusts on the sofa so he's facing me.

He’s so intimidating. It’s not just his dark, sharp looks, it’s the way he carries himself.

I can hardly stand being this close to him without making a fucking fool of myself. He makes me feel weak.

Damnit! Why did I sit on the loveseat? We’re way too close. I take a deep breath to say something else. I can’t stand this tension any longer, but before I can say a single word, I get a hint of his cologne.

I read somewhere that smell carries the most memory. Polo Black by Ralph Lauren, his signature scent. Just like he used to wear in high school. It’s my favorite. I always think of him whenever I smell it.

I close my eyes and take another deep breath. God, he smells so fucking good. I can't believe just the smell of him is making me want him so much. I can practically feel his hands on my body. He held me like he owned me; he kissed me like he needed the air in my lungs to breathe. No one else has ever made me feel like that.

I open my eyes and take a glance at him.

“So how do you like school?” he asks. My heart’s beating so fucking fast, and yet he’s unaffected.

His hand rests on his jeans, and I can clearly see the outline of his hard cock. I draw in a sharp breath, looking away.

I stare down at the floor as my cheeks flame. Jesus! I'm blushing like a fucking thirteen-year-old girl. We never took it that far, but I sure as fuck wish we had. I remember grinding on top of him in the driver’s seat as he kissed my neck. The sexiest sound I've ever heard was him moaning because of my touch.


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