Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“Probably the same thing as you.” Avoiding the lines for the bathroom. Lifting my hand in a careless sort of dismissal, I begin to move in the direction of my old desk when the stranger’s fingers slip around my bicep, his large hand drawing me back to him.
“What were you doing in the bathroom?” His gaze darkens as it runs over my face, his thumb sliding my hair from my still-damp brow. “Whatever it was, you seem to have worked up quite a sweat.”
My hair does feel damp, which means the wispy hairs at my hairline have probably curled like tiny question marks. “Yes, well, I was having quite a hard time.”
“I’m beginning to commiserate.” The velvety tone of his words makes everything inside me pull tight. “Perhaps I could help?”
“I don’t see how.” Consternation ripples across my brow. “Don’t you want to…”
“Desperately.” His soft breath skims across my cheek as he slides a lock of my hair around his finger, like the temptation of it was just too great. But there’s a particular something in his gaze that makes me think he’s laughing at me.
What did I say? Or what did he overhear?
Unzip, you useless pair of pants?
No, that wasn’t it.
I need this.
Oh dear.
And fuck my finger. No! Fuck, my finger.
Open for me.
A smile quirks, his lips ridiculously lush. Yes, lush. His mouth really makes no sense in that face. I can’t imagine how I thought he looked cold, not with a mouth just begging to be kissed.
“You’re sure there’s nothing…” His hand slips to my waistband, and I suck in a breath as his thumb skims lightly across my skin. My full bladder begins to pulse, and for a minute, it’s actually quite pleasurable. Which is a conundrum in itself. “In my experience, two is always better than one.”
“I can’t get off.”
His smile spills like honey, slow and sweet but much more suggestive. “That is a pity.”
I shake my head staccato, the continued stroke of his thumb scattering my brain and thickening my tongue. “I mean, I can’t get my jeans off.”
“Also something I could help you with.”
“The fact is,” I begin, more flustered than annoyed because a handsome stranger wanting to strip me out of my jeans in this room seems like a teenage fantasy come true. “The fact is, I was in the bathroom for a very specific reason, and every other bathroom in this house was already occupi—” My words halt, breaking off mid complaint as his hand lifts between us and his thumb presses against my bottom lip. Not to silence me, I realize, as he adds a little more pressure, swiping the tip inside.
Liquid heat floods my body as he lifts that digit to his own mouth.
“Champagne.”
He was tasting me? I return the gesture without thought, rolling my bottom lip inward, savoring the salt of his skin. The salt of him.
“That was…” Hands down, the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me.
Bewildered, I roll my bottom lip in again. “Does that usually work for you?”
He presses me closer, his words like a kiss blown across my lips. “You tell me.”
I might anticipate his kiss but find myself inhaling a sharp gasp as he sucks on my lower lip instead. Light and heat wash through me, my nipples turning to hardened points beneath my still-damp blouse. As though he can tell, as though he knows this sudden ache, his hand slides under the silk, spanning my ribs.
I’m so turned on, I feel like I might explode. And then I remember why “explode” is a pertinent term as a pulse begins to beat painfully between my legs.
“I need…” My voice is husky, my body confused and wanting.
“Tell me,” he demands, moving me backward toward my childhood bed. “Let me give it to you.”
“Yes—no! You don’t understand.” I press my hand to his chest, my tone a little more forceful. “I have to go,” I whisper as his lips find the tender skin behind my ear.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, his clever mouth delivering a trail of kisses down my neck.
“Oh.” I do love neck kisses, and I think I might whimper as his big hands cup my bum, pressing me against him. “Oh!” The tone is different this time as a desperate urge almost overwhelms me. “Oh my God. I’m going to wet myself.”
He makes a low masculine growl, a sound of approval.
“No—” His teeth scrape over my pulse, and my knees give. “Yes! Oh my God, I’m going to pee all over the floor!”
“I can’t say I’ve ever been into water sports.”
I pull away with a cry, my hands plunging downward in another attempt. “I can’t… get… them… off!” Glancing up, I find him studying me. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to work out if I’m turned on or not.” My gaze dips to his crotch, and my cheeks turn pink. I’m too much of a lady to contradict him. “Could I perhaps…?”