Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Sure,” I say breathily.
“You look utterly delectable to the point of distraction.” His lips move against the back of my hand.
“Oh. Is that going to be a problem for you?” I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but his eyes are hooded, and they keep roving over me in a way that makes me feel naked.
“Nothing I can’t handle, but I was thinking…”
“About?”
“The order of things.” He keeps rubbing his bottom lip and looking at my mouth.
“Would you like to elaborate on that?”
“Well, usually the kiss comes at the end of a date. I pick you up, take you somewhere nice—” He motions to the restaurant. “We eat and talk and laugh, and at the end—”
“You’ll ask for permission to kiss me.”
He nods. “Exactly.”
“Hmm.” I tap my lip. “Are you thinking that maybe we should be a little … deviant and turn this date on its head? Start with a kiss and work backwards?”
“I love how you think outside the box, Harley.”
I slide my hand along his chest and up over his shoulder, taking a step closer until our bodies are flush. It’s the closest I’ve been to him in years. But so much has changed, and now instead of seeking comfort, we’re looking for something else. The anticipation feels electric. My skin pebbles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I tip my chin up, gaze meeting his.
His eyes search mine. “You are so beautiful.” He cups my cheek in his palm, thumb brushing back and forth, his lips hover over mine for a suspended moment. And for the briefest, uncomfortable second, I remember what it was like all those years ago. When I’d been this close to kissing him and everything changed. My whole world turned upside down.
But before the memory truly takes hold, he drops his head. And for the first time our lips meet. The kiss is gentle at first. Chaste.
For a moment I think that’s going to be it. That he’s going to drop a PG kiss on me and leave it at that. So I dig my nails into the back of his neck and suck his bottom lip between mine.
He makes a deep, throaty sound and winds his arm around my waist, pulling me tighter against him. We tip our heads, lips parting as our tongues meet. It’s sweet at first, soft and tender. But I bite his tongue, and his hand slides down my back, gripping my ass as his hips press forward and I feel him, hard and demanding against my stomach. The sound of deep bass thumping from a passing car reminds me that we’re standing outside, in the middle of the parking lot.
I tear my mouth from his, and his lips immediately latch onto my neck. I cup his chin in my hand and push him back just enough that he can’t reach my mouth again. His gaze is all fire and his lip curls up in a salacious smile. “You’re a minx under all that soft and sweet, aren’t you?”
“You’ll find that out later.”
His brow arches. “Is that so?”
“Take me for dinner, Gavin.”
His smile widens and his fiery gaze roves over my face again. He drops his head, his mouth at my ear. “One day, hopefully not long from now, I will most definitely eat you like you’re my last meal.”
I throw my head back and laugh, swatting at his chest. “Now that’s a line.”
“That’s a promise, and one I intend to make and keep more than once.” He winks, does a little surreptitious rearranging in his pants, then threads his fingers through mine and tugs me toward the restaurant.
Fifteen
SWEET WITH BITE
HARLEY
I’m excited to get more of this version of Gavin, flirty and playful. When it’s just the two of us, it’s as though he gives himself permission to let some of the walls down. And I understand why they’ve been in place while we’re with Peyton. I’m not sure it will be particularly easy to stay in check all the time if that kiss is anything to go by.
The host takes us to a private table at the back of the restaurant and hands Gavin a wine list. “Do you prefer red or white?” he asks, flipping through the book.
“Um, I prefer margaritas to wine. Or sex on the beach.” I bite my lip when his gaze lifts and one brow arches.
“I’m sure I can accommodate the second request at some point in the future, maybe next summer. Unless a tropical getaway is in the cards this winter.”
“We’re on our first date, Gavin. You might want to hold off on planning vacations until at least date six or seven,” I tease.
My stomach flutters at the thought that he’s already folding me into his life. And another part of me worries that this is all too fast. As if being able to ask me out on a date suddenly opened a door he’s been waiting to walk through, and now he can’t help but build a fictional future that somehow includes me every step of the way. It’s as elating as it is terrifying.