Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I step into his reach, and we crash together. My hands grasp his shoulders, my fingers and palms smoothing over his muscles to his neck, where I can get the best grasp. Soft hairs tickle me as I tilt my face up, and his mouth slants over mine.
This is the kind of kiss to end all kisses. It’s the kind of kiss that says I’d rather be eating you than even the best balls. Meatballs, that is. Dinner. Spaghetti. All the dinners. Dessert too. Our lips battle it out, but then we both remember this isn’t a war, and we’re on the same team, so the kiss changes and deepens. Sterling’s hands sweep to my hips, and he steps into me, driving me back into the wall. I go happily, letting him press me there as I lean up against his solid body. I can feel how hard he is. He’s doing absolutely nothing to hide it, and now I realize that before this, he angled it away from me so I wouldn’t feel it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t turned on. This is every fantasy I’ve ever had coming true right here.
Sterling licks at my lips, and I lick back, tracing the seam of his mouth and exploring his bottom lip. He suckles mine back in response and groans like I’m the best meal he’s ever had. His hand caresses the curve of my hip right before I part my legs and invite him to step between him. Okay, it’s more like a not-so-subtle suggestion. Alright, it’s a straight-up demand. I need to grind against him. I need the friction of his hard thigh between my legs. And when I get it, I let out a sound that is barely human into his mouth while he makes one back in response.
I’ve been making music wrong my whole life. This symphony of primal and feral grunts and groans? It’s the most beautiful sound in the world.
Sterling grunts again, and then he growls and barks.
Barks.
Wait…what?
We break apart, and I whip back around to look at the table.
Which just happens to have a dog standing on top of it.
Eating my meatballs.
“Beans!” I clap my hands together, and he scurries down, but not before he laps up all the meatballs off the pile of my spaghetti, spraying sauce all over the place. Then, he goes running, munching all the way.
Honestly, it’s too cute to be mad. I can always make more meatballs. And more spaghetti.
But this…Sterling…he’s already breaking away, rubbing at the back of his neck and putting distance between us. That’s not just something we can resume. What happened was natural and hot, and I don’t feel like we can just pick up where we left off a second ago.
“Time for a walk?” he calls out to Beans.
Beans’ stumpy tail wags hard, and he licks his lips furiously.
Later, after walking the dog and having a second round of spaghetti and meatballs made fresh for dinner, and after a brief discussion about all the lawyers Sterling called and talked to today and how he’s moving forward with my family’s plan to pull the arsehole rug out from under his arsehole cousins and keep his company safe, we both fall into bed together.
Though not the way we did last night.
This is the kind of falling that involves separate sides and no touching. We’re as awkward as if we were strangers forced to be sharing a bed.
I turn over onto my side to face the wall, and Sterling does the same. We’re back to back, not just like strangers, but like two people who don’t even like each other. I know we’re just awkward. We’re shy, and he’s tired. He hasn’t slept well. He’s stressed. I should probably just let him sleep if he can find it.
Surprisingly, I feel the twisty, dizzy, falling sensation that comes right before the really heavy sleep feeling overtakes me. The last thought I remember having is that the whole so close but so far away thing actually makes a lot of sense. Sterling is so close to me in this bed, but he’s never felt further away.
Chapter twenty
Sterling
Smitty does know no one should call a person before six in the morning, but he does it this morning because he has news. Impossibly good news.
The plan that Weland’s family put forward yesterday, and I scrambled and made mad amounts of phone calls to get everyone working on? It’s not just going to be a thing. It is a thing. In one day, Smitty has worked a miracle. Well, he and a giant team behind him, along with everyone who works for me. The company is safe, and it’s always going to be safe. Yesterday, a new company was created. The team back in Nashville worked into the late hours of the night, changing contracts, and every single artist signed. Smitty’s people made a miracle happen. There’s nothing that can’t work out if you have enough money. I’ve always had a few shell corps sitting around. Smitty just took one and turned it into a bigger one. There were some holdings under each, but this one is going to be airtight.