Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“You don’t think that someone could come down here and pull your panties out of the dryer to sniff them?”
“Don’t say that,” she cries, looking horrified. “Now I’m going to have to sit down here while my laundry’s in the machine, because I’m not going to be able to stop thinking that someone is down here doing that.”
“You’ll worry about that but not about the fact that you could kill someone or yourself getting your laundry down here? Or the lighting in this room?” I shake my head, and her eyes narrow.
“I’ve been doing my laundry down here for over two years and nothing has ever happened, so I’m pretty sure I’m good, and besides that, until you came along, I had never been accident-prone. So maybe my sudden clumsiness is all your fault.”
“You did say I make you dizzy.” I grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“You are so full of yourself,” she huffs, picking up her jug of detergent and heading for the door. Following her up the first flight of steps, I watch her ass, then give in and toss her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks as I jog up the steps.
“We’re getting to the good part of the day.”
“The good part?” she asks, and I pull her down until she’s in front of me and her legs are wrapped around my hips.
“Yeah, the part where we spend a couple hours making out.”
“Oh,” she breathes as I push open the door of her apartment, taking her mouth while I carry her across to the couch. We spend most of the day there, only stopping to eat and go downstairs to change over laundry.
Chapter 9
WAY TOO FAST
FAWN
Knocking on Levi’s door, I chew on my bottom lip in nervousness. When I left him this morning to catch my train, I hadn’t planned on seeing him again until after the weekend. But once I got to my parents’ house out on Long Island and walked through the door, all I could do was think about him being home alone tomorrow on Thanksgiving. My mom, who knew exactly why I was in such a strange mood, pulled me aside and suggested I leave and spend the holiday with Levi. I didn’t debate for a second. I kissed my family goodbye and got back on the train to come home. Only now I’m wondering if I should have. Yes, the last two weeks with Levi have been amazing—magical, really. But we are still very new, and spending holidays together is a big, giant step forward, even if we have spent every night in the same bed and under the same roof unless he had to work.
Hearing the locks click, I come out of my head and pull my shoulders back, feeling my stomach fill with nervous butterflies.
“Baby.” His eyes scan over me slowly from head to toe, like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I . . .” I pause, wondering what I should say, exactly, then figure the truth is probably the best place to start. “I couldn’t stand the idea of you being home alone tomor—” My words come to an abrupt end as he nabs my hand and pulls me into his apartment, slamming the door, pushing me back against it. My purse falls to the floor. “Levi—” My hands go to his bare chest as he moves closer, pressing his body against mine.
“You—” He pauses, searching my face, and I watch his eyes darken to a deeper, richer amber color. “You came back to spend Thanksgiving with me?” he asks quietly, and I feel my face soften as my hands move up his chest to his shoulders while his hand wraps around the back of my head and his fingers slide up into my hair.
“Yes, I came back to spend Thanksgiving with you.”
“We have no food for tomorrow,” he says, dropping his mouth to my neck, licking up the column of my throat as his free hand slides up the front of my shirt, over my stomach, stopping to rest on the underside of my breast.
“Th . . . that’s okay,” I pant, pressing my head back into the door as his lips, tongue, and teeth work along my neck. “We can eat out,” I moan as he pulls down the cup of my bra and slides his thumb over my nipple.
“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I don’t want to eat out.” He licks up to my ear, making the space between my legs pulse. “I want to eat you.”
“Oh,” I breathe, closing my eyes. We’ve done a lot—I mean, a lot—of fooling around over the last two weeks, but he’s never gone too far and has always stopped before things could get out of hand, insisting I need to understand what giving myself to him means.