Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Two hours later, as I settle into the backseat of a cab with Wesley next to me, I wonder what the hell I’m doing.
I’ve had only two lovers in my life—both of them long-term boyfriends I didn’t sleep with until months into the relationship. I don’t do one-night stands. Or at least I’ve never had one before, but something came over me when Wesley asked if I wanted to get out of the bar. I don’t even think I realized that something inside me knew if I didn’t go with him, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
The door slams, and I listen as Wesley gives the driver directions to his place. I’m suddenly unsure of my decision.
“Hey.” His voice washes over me while his hand moves up my leg to the junction between my thighs.
My pulse quickens, and white-hot lust shoots through my system. The same lust I’ve been feeling all night. Meeting his gaze, I see that the same lust is staring right back at me. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I watch as his eyes drop to my mouth. A whoosh of breath leaves my lungs as he leans in.
The first touch of his lips to mine is soft and exploratory—a tease of what’s to come. Touching my tongue to his bottom lip, I feel his chest vibrate against mine. I whimper as he deepens the kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth to toy with mine while his hand in the hair at the back of my head tightens and tilts it, sending a sting of desire through me.
Pulling back when the cab comes to a stop, I pant as he pays the driver. I take his hand when he offers it and allow him to help me out of the backseat. Shutting the door behind us, he keeps my hand firmly in his as we walk down the sidewalk and toward a set of stairs that leads to the bottom level of a townhouse. After he unlocks and opens the door, I start to walk inside ahead of him. He stops me, wraps his hand around my waist, and moves his face close to mine. He’s so close that I can feel his warm breath brush against my lips as he speaks.
“You sure about this?” he asks.
My pulse, already thundering away, speeds up.
“Yes,” I whisper without having to think about my answer. Raising my shaking hands, I run my fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft and as thick as I thought it would be. I pull his mouth down toward mine.
Groaning, “Fuck,” his mouth captures mine as his hands slide down my back to my ass. He cups it, then lifts me off the ground like I weigh nothing at all. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I moan into his mouth. He walks us into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind us.
When I blink my eyes open, the early-morning light greets me through the partially opened blinds next to the bed. I realize I’m not home; then I feel the heavy weight of Wesley’s arm draped over my bare waist. I pull in a quiet breath and let it out slowly as I look around. The room is small—just big enough for the queen-size bed I’m lying on and a dresser tucked in the corner. There are no curtains covering the windows or pictures on the walls. There’s nothing to tell me anything about the man I just spent the night with. The man who held me throughout the night, the man still curled around me.
Worrying my bottom lip, I debate what I should do now that I’m awake. The idea of having to face Wesley when he wakes up sends panic pulsing through my system. I know enough from talking to friends that the morning after is always awkward for both parties, and I want to save us both that experience. Figuring it’s better to get out now, I carefully move out of his grasp. This isn’t easy to do because his hold on me seems to tighten whenever I make any leeway. Finally extracting myself from him and the bed, I quietly get up and search through our clothes—scattered across the floor—until I find my stuff.
Once I have everything in my arms, I head for the bedroom door. I pause with my hand on the doorknob and look back at the bed. Running my eyes over Wesley’s dark hair, his face relaxed in sleep, and his big, strong body makes something uncomfortable shift in my stomach. It’s like my soul is telling me that I’m an idiot for just taking off and not seeing what will happen if I stick around.
Shaking off that feeling, I quietly open the door and step out, closing it behind me. Walking into his living-room-slash-kitchen, I put on my clothes as fast as I can. I grab my bag and toss it over my shoulder. Nibbling my bottom lip some more, I wonder if I should leave him a note. I close my eyes at the ridiculousness of the thought. What would it even say? “Thanks for last night?” “It was fun?” Yes, we had a good time, but he had a good time with the Mackenzie who dresses sexy, wears makeup, and drinks martinis. He wasn’t with the real me. Mac the tomboy. The beer drinker, the girl who is always just one of the guys.