Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Roger had ducked out with Luna, so Lo was the last one. She held up her phone in a wave. “’Night. It was good to meet you, Brett. Billie, love you. Call me tomorrow.” She left with no more fanfare, so I knew she was tired as well. Or distracted.
I picked the latter because she hadn’t hugged me goodbye. She always hugged me when she left.
I felt Brett’s attention as I watched through the kitchen window. They went to their SUV and headed down the driveway.
What was she distracted about? It couldn’t have been Brett. Or maybe it was?
“You okay?”
I answered without thinking. “She just worries about me.”
Brett’s eyebrows lowered, but he kept drying the dishes I put on the rack. “About me?”
“It’s not just you. I think…” Understanding dawned. “It’s because of me.”
“You?” Brett took a pan from my hands.
“Because of you.” I turned sharply, angling my head back to see him.
“Not following you.”
I flushed and went back to washing. “It’s because I’m different with you. She’s never seen this side of me.” I considered it. “I’ve never seen this side of me either.”
“How’s the side of this you different than the other yous?”
“I’m…” I paused with my hands in the water. “I’m more me with you than I am with anyone else.”
His eyebrows lifted.
I returned to washing, sliding the washcloth over a bowl. “I’m more carefree, more relaxed. I feel safe with you.”
He stepped back from the counter, setting the plate down. “You don’t feel safe with other people?”
“Other guys. Other people I might’ve dated. I’m always cautious. Always. That’s why. She’s worried because she thinks I’m not being myself.” It made so much more sense now. I went back to washing, moving faster, now wanting to be done. “That’s also probably why she was rooting for Travis so much, ’cause he’s a cop.”
A shadow flashed over his face before he straightened. “Right. And I’m a big guy.”
“Big and athletic. You’re not big big. You’re strong big.” I dried my hands and reached over, touching his stomach, feeling him still. “You’re all muscle. And fast. Threatening.” His stomach twitched. “You’re not the biggest guy on the team, but you’re not wide-receiver size either.”
“Yeah?” His voice was low, guttural.
I glanced up, and my train of thought vanished. His eyes were blazing. I knew he wanted to back me up against a wall.
My breath caught and held in my throat because that feeling was spreading inside me too. Fast. Frenzied.
It overpowered everything else.
I forgot what we were doing completely, the room melting away.
My hand flattened against his stomach. I moved closer, feeling his heat, feeling his jeans, my fingers slid under his sweatshirt until they touched skin.
He groaned, but I was focused on his chest. I moved my hand up, smoothing over his very flat stomach, over all the dips and rises, all the way up, as if I could tunnel my way to his heart. Then he backed me against the counter and stood right in front of me.
His front pressed against my front, and it felt so good. I wanted to feel more of him, and my hand moved south, between us—over his stomach to his jeans. My fingers curled over the waistband, brushing inside.
“Billie,” he rasped out on an exhale.
My hand went to the top of his jeans, outlining the button. I tipped my head up to see his face in shadow, rimmed by the light behind him. I took inventory, putting all that data away so I could remember it later. I never wanted to forget the way my pulse sped up, knowing he was about to kiss me.
I lifted my mouth up, drawing him in at the same time.
He moaned, his hand catching the side of my face, and his lips were on mine.
I surged up.
Yes!
19
BRETT
I wanted to press her against the counter, destroy those lips of hers, rip her clothes off, and surge inside. But I needed to curtail everything because it wasn’t right. Not for her. Not yet. I needed to go slow. I needed to savor this, be respectable.
She deserved the world.
It took every ounce of willpower, but I ripped my mouth from hers.
“No,” she whimpered, leaning forward, chasing me.
I was breathing hard, my chest rising and falling. “Babe.” I panted, my forehead to hers.
Jesus. I was standing between her legs, my hands half down her pants, and we were in the kitchen of the family who’d taken her in and loved her. Jesus Christ. The same people who’d welcomed me, fed me, and showed me a glimpse of what a normal family might’ve looked like, a tease of paradise.
Screwing Billie on their counter wasn’t any way to thank them.
She pulled me back, lust blinding her.
“Billie,” I said, my voice low. It took everything in me to step away from her, especially as she tried to pull me back, back to her warm honey. That’s how she tasted, how she smelled, how she felt. Pure fucking honey. Men everywhere would salivate for just one taste of it. That was Billie.