Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I blew out a long breath and attempted to center myself. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate on my breathing.
Except all I could see when I closed them was Brett. His glistening torso. All the times I saw it as he was over me, fucking me. How incredible we had been together.
I sighed, recalling the first time I had met him.
Charly had called me to tell me she was getting married. I had a break coming up, so I flew home to be part of her day and take her wedding photographs. The event itself was laid-back and casual, and the night before, there was a get-together at their place. I arrived the day before the wedding, and I helped out in the kitchen, enjoying the camaraderie with Mary and Charly. Outside, the men were setting up tables and chairs, instructing the florist, who was constructing the arbor where they would exchange their vows. I took out a tray of lemonade and handed out the drinks to Maxx, Stefano, and Brett. Stefano was tall, handsome, and intense, his dark hair and eyes giving away his Italian heritage. Brett was the exact opposite. Golden-brown hair, blue eyes, with an easygoing smile and a friendly disposition. Both were in their early thirties and single. Whereas Stefano was denser with muscles, Brett was leaner but cut and defined. They all wore muscle shirts, and I found my eyes drawn to Brett over and again. How he moved. His wide smile. The way he teased and laughed. His frank stare when our eyes would meet.
It was the same later that night as we sat around a fire Maxx built. Our gazes kept meeting across the dancing flames, and something in Brett’s stare ignited a different fire within me.
At one point, I went into the house to get some more marshmallows. Brett was leaning on the counter, sipping a glass of water. Our eyes locked, and he watched as I opened the cupboard, reaching up to grab the marshmallows. They were just out of reach, and before I could ask, he was behind me, his body pressed against mine, the heat of him soaking into my back. His scent was clean and masculine, laced with woodsmoke from the fire.
“I’ll get those,” he murmured, stretching his arm over my head, pushing into me more. He was hard and firm behind me. Every part of him. A small whimper escaped my mouth as he grabbed the bag and lowered it to the counter.
He stayed behind me, his arms caging me in. He lowered his head, his breath hot on my neck.
“You are one sexy woman, you know that?”
“I am?” I responded.
“I see you eyeballing me,” he whispered.
“You’re doing the same thing,” I retorted.
“I like looking at you,” he said, his lips ghosting my earlobe. “Imagining doing more than looking.”
I turned, and our lips met in a violent rush. He speared his tongue inside my mouth, his taste exploding. He slanted his head, going deeper. It was hot, wet, and passionate. He was everything I thought he would be as he yanked me tight to his chest, kissing me as if he needed the oxygen from my lungs to survive. I groaned as he lifted me to the counter, standing between my legs. I could feel every hard inch of him, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, drowning in his kiss. His taste. The sheer strength of him. He gripped my hip, pulling me tighter, and I was lost to him.
Until we heard footsteps and he broke away, heading toward the hall. I jumped down, grabbing the bag of marshmallows, and walked toward the door. Mary stepped inside as I got there.
“I thought maybe you couldn’t find them,” she said, indicating the bag in my hands.
“Nope, got them. I had to, ah, use the bathroom,” I ad-libbed.
“Ah,” was all she said, but I couldn’t meet her eyes. I brushed past her, heading for the fire pit, hoping no one would notice my swollen lips and how quickly I was breathing.
Luckily, everyone was too busy and was happy there were more marshmallows.
Mary followed, sitting down next to me again.
A few moments later, Brett strolled back to the fire, sitting down. He balanced a glass on his bent knee, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight.
Our eyes met, his filled with a silent promise.
To be continued.
I shook my head to clear it. Then I stood, knowing I had to face the group of people waiting in the backyard.
I never should have come.
BRETT
Kelly walked into the backyard, smiling and looking pleased to see everyone. I observed her from my chair, lifting a hand to wave at her in greeting, knowing without a doubt we were being scrutinized by the entire group.
“Kelly,” I said, acting as if we hadn’t already had a moment in the kitchen. “I heard you were back.”