Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Me, too.”
With an exaggerated groan, Ryan rolled out of bed, his heels striking the hard floor with a thud. I rolled to face him, taking in the striking curves of his body, the slight bulge in his arms and legs, and the surprisingly small curvature of his ass.
“What’s so funny?”
I clamped my lips shut when I realized I had giggled a little. He angled his head to search behind him; then he turned his goofy grin to me with a question in his eyes.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
That was a mistake. Ryan leaped back on the bed and pinned me between his arms, his heated gaze making my stomach swirl with primal hunger. “Are you ticklish?”
I had him beat there. “Nope,” I said proudly. “One of my mother’s least favorite things about me when I was a kid.”
“What!”
I giggled. One advantage of not being ticklish was that every time someone tried, I knew exactly where it was. But I remembered every jab in my side, just above the ribcage but below the armpits. It was a favorite go-to, I’d learned, so before Ryan leaned in to kiss me again, I grabbed his sides and pressed the pads of my fingers into his skin until he squealed like a child.
“Chris—” was all he got out before he exploded in a fit of laughter. I clambered on top of him as he rolled to the side. Sometimes I wondered what it felt like to be ticklish, but if nothing else, I loved the reaction it elicited from my victims.
“Stop!” he cried, swinging desperately for a grip of my arms or hands. In one sweep, I rolled off him and leaped to my feet, ready to attack again if necessary.
Ryan had to catch his breath, but I stood triumphant. He shot me a menacing glare, and I responded with fingers curled into claws. He was still laughing, but barely, his breaths ragged and heavy. He was defeated, it seemed. It felt good being on the winning side.
“That wasn’t right,” he said as he pulled on his shirt.
“Not right or not how you saw things going?” I looked at him over my shoulder as I fastened my bra. He’d just seen me naked, but it still felt weird to get dressed with him looking.
“Definitely not how I saw that going.”
I laughed, and Ryan finished catching his breath. He sounded winded just by getting dressed, and that alone made me happy.
“Breakfast?” he offered.
“Um . . .” He liked to eat out a lot. “Maybe in a bit.”
“Do you work today?”
“Sorta.” I pulled my hair from inside my shirt collar and let it fall against my back. “I’m supposed to be at a meeting that starts at noon.” Ryan’s sigh told me he didn’t approve, but I’d been giving it some thought.
“How about I pick up something? I know just the place for a surprise. If that works for you.”
I gave him the best smile I had. For the first time in a while, it felt real. “That sounds awesome.”
Ryan took wide steps across the room and spun me by my waist. My mouth opened in a gasp, but he swallowed the breath with his mouth, sealing it with his lips fitting perfectly around mine. I melted into his arms and leaned into his embrace. My arms found purchase around his shoulders, and our kiss moved slowly. His tongue explored my mouth with the most tender of questions, and without another reason to turn away, I gave in completely.
When he finally walked out the door, the ghost of his lips remained. Unable to help myself, I touched my mouth as if to make sure his lips weren’t still there. This was a new world he and I were exploring. It was a wonder how I’d come to get on this ride. But now that I’d chosen to take it on, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to get off.
I hadn’t called Mom and decided I should, but I struggled with what I’d say. As much as I was still frustrated with her remarks on my job, I still wanted her advice. If I did quit so soon, would it reflect poorly on me, or would it matter at all? I pulled up my call log and swiped at her name, halting all questions until I at least heard her thoughts.
“Well, it’s about time, isn’t it?” she answered by way of greeting.
I rolled my eyes, remembering once again why it was so hard to talk to her in the first place. “Hey, Mom.”
“What’s up, sweetie?”
“Quite a bit, actually, but can you avoid rubbing anything in my face?”
“Now that’s a ridiculous thing to say, Christie. Why would you start a conversation like that?”
The same reason you’d start a conversation with “Well, it’s about time,” I thought but swallowed those words and chose a little more wisely. “I just need some advice, but I don’t want you to push me to make a decision. I just want to know what you think based on who you know me to be.”