Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
He was. I knew he was. But it didn’t matter.
“Well, it’s no use wishing for what we can’t have,” I said, doing my best to push Zach out of my mind. “How about we watch a movie?”
Later that night, long after my sisters had gone, the lights were out and I was lying in bed with my vibrator beside me.
But instead of using it, I lay awake, wondering what Zach was doing. Was he still out with the wedding party? Was he in his hotel room alone? Was he thinking about me? Or had he been more successful than I had at filing our chemistry in a box labeled UNSAVORY and moving on with his thoughts?
I flopped onto my side and stared at my nightstand. I tapped my phone to see what time it was—just after eleven. He was probably still out, right? So I shouldn’t text him. Someone might see it.
Then again, it’s not like my name would show up on his phone, I reasoned. He didn’t have me saved in his contacts or anything.
Biting my lip, I slowly pulled the drawer where I kept his card open. Reached inside. Took it out.
Then I rolled onto my back and stared at it in the dark. Slid my finger over its edges. Remembered the sound of his deep, rough-hewn voice in my ear. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t leave without kissing you.
I reached for my phone.
He probably won’t reply anyway, I told myself. He’s probably still out having fun or asleep already.
I typed his number into my phone and hit message.
Still thinking about you. I hope you’re having a good night.
Then before I lost my nerve, I hit send.
I was still holding my breath when three dots appeared. I let it out in a whoosh when his reply came through.
Thinking about you too. The night would be better if you were here.
Oh my God. Oh my God. What did that mean? Was he still out? Was he saying he wished I’d come to dinner?
Where are you?
My hotel room. Call me?
I gasped. Heart pounding, I did what he asked.
“Hey.” That voice. Just one word from him caused my nipples to tingle.
“Hi,” I said softly. “How did it go tonight?”
“Fine. A little weird, but fine.”
“Weird how?”
“Weird to hear myself introduced as someone’s dad all night long.”
“Oh.”
“I cut out pretty quickly after dinner. Grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a liquor store on my way back here. I was hoping a drink would help me fall asleep.”
“But it didn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe it’s jet lag keeping you up.”
“It’s not jet lag.”
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’m glad you reached out.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes. “Even though it’s wrong?”
“It’s just a phone call. What could be wrong about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I guess it might be considered wrong if I asked what you were wearing.”
My lower lip fell open. Heat bloomed in my nether regions.
“But tell me anyway,” he said. “And then take it all off.”
I sucked in my breath again. Then I sat up, whipped off my cotton top, and lay back again before wriggling out of my flannel bottoms and panties. “I was wearing very cute red and white pajamas,” I told him. “But now I’m naked.”
“Good girl.”
I shivered and pulled the covers up again. “What about you? What are you wearing?”
“Black pants with a drawstring waist.”
I pictured him lying there in a dark room, chest bare, pants low on his hips. “Untie the string.”
“I’m way ahead of you.”
I flattened a palm on my stomach. “How far ahead?”
“Far enough that I’ve got my cock in my hand, and every word you say is making it harder.”
Oh, fuck. I glanced at the toy next to me. “What are you thinking about?” I asked breathlessly.
“Your body. Your mouth. Your eyes. The taste of your pussy on my tongue.”
“God, I love your tongue,” I whimpered, sliding my hand between my legs.
“I wish I was fucking you with it right now.” His breathing was louder. Faster.
“Let’s pretend,” I whispered, moving my fingertips over my clit.
“I forgot what a bad girl you are,” he said, like it delighted him. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Are you wet from the stroke of my tongue?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now suck your fingers.”
I brought my fingers to my mouth, brushed them over my lips, then sucked them, being sure to make a little noise about it.
He groaned. “God, I wish that mouth was on my cock.”
“Me too,” I whispered. “I didn’t get to do it that night.”
“Put your fingers between your legs again,” he ordered. “Put them inside you, as deep as you can reach, then rub your clit.”
I did what he asked, eyes closed, thighs open. “Zach. It feels so good.”
“I want you to come for me,” he said in that tone I’d been fantasizing about all week, the one that said there will be no refusal. “Don’t stop until it happens.”