Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“Burgess,” she gasped, patting him on the shoulder with a shaky hand. “O-okay. Okay.”
“Okay what, gorgeous?” he muttered thickly.
She moaned as he licked up the side of her neck. “This is . . . we’re getting c-carried away.”
“I’ll carry you anywhere you want to go.”
“I’m . . . that sounds . . . oh, God.” They attacked each other’s mouths in a frenzy of suction and open lips; long, moaning tastes that made his hands shake where they tangled in the hem of her skirt. “I haven’t gone out drinking like this in a while and I’m . . . I’m making rash decisions . . .”
Drinking.
She’d been drinking.
What the hell was he doing?
She’d called him, trusting him to get her home safely. Now he was mauling her on the side of a very public street, trying to remember if he still had that condom in his wallet.
Seriously, man?
Get your fucking act together or it’s the last time she’ll ever call you for anything.
“I’m sorry.” He untangled his hands from her skirt, pressing his fists to the ceiling of the SUV, remaining hovered above her while he caught his breath. Stopping wasn’t easy by any means. In fact, it was utter torture, especially when she still had her thighs open for his hips, her tits rifling up and down while she struggled to breathe. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I . . .”
I’ve been thinking about you nonstop for months.
You make me so horny, I am breathing through my ears.
“No, it’s okay, I asked you to kiss me.”
“Went a little further than kissing. And you’ve been drinking. There’s no excuse.” Burgess garnered the deep inner strength it took to haul himself off his au pair, a girl eleven years his junior who’d asked him for help. Wow. What a bastard. He kept his eyes trained on a point above her shoulder while he pushed her legs back together. She quickly turned in the seat at the same time, staring straight ahead through the windshield, and Burgess took that as a sign to give her a moment to collect herself.
Closing the passenger door, he skirted around the front bumper to the driver’s side, opened it, and climbed in. He went to turn the key in the ignition and cursed, realizing that one, his hands were shaking and two, he’d left the engine running. Tallulah was still looking off into the distance. Because she’d been equally affected by the kiss or because she’d made a terrible mistake asking for his help? Hoping for the former was probably absurd.
Burgess put the car in Drive and pulled away from the club, judging he had approximately twelve minutes until they reached his building and that definitely wasn’t going to be enough time to make her comfortable with him again. “I’m sorry, Tallulah.”
“You can stop apologizing. I encouraged you.”
The confirmation that he hadn’t imagined her willing participation was hell on his dick. It swelled at the proof that she had yanked on his shirt. Her tongue had been inside of his mouth. Those moans were real. Still. “I knew you’d been drinking. I just . . .” He stopped at a red light, raked a set of fingers through his hair, and decided to go with a modified version of the truth, which was that he’d been in lust with her since they met. She was already freaked-out enough. He just wanted to give her an explanation that would get that deer in headlights expression off her face. “It’s just that I haven’t been with a woman in a while, Tallulah, and you’re fucking beautiful. It’s still not an excuse. And it won’t happen again.”
She turned wide eyes on Burgess.
Said nothing.
“What?” he prompted.
“You’re so intense,” she finally sputtered. “Have you ever made small talk in your life?”
“About what?”
“That’s the thing about small talk. It’s not about anything. It’s small.”
“What’s the goddamn point?”
She implored the ceiling for patience. “It’s preliminary conversation. You have to gauge the other person to see if they’re in the mood to discuss anything deeper. It’s like kissing—”
His zipper turned suffocating. “Please don’t bring up kissing.” While your legs are crossed two feet away in that little leather skirt and stockings. Dear God.
“You’re right, that’s a bad example. You don’t ease into kissing, either. Holy moly.”
He took a right turn a little too sharply. “Is that a complaint?”
“Nope. Just an observation.”
“Okay then.” Let it drop. You should one hundred percent let it drop or you’ll sound insecure or pathetic. “You would have liked it differently?”
“I didn’t say that.” She waved her hands in a crisscross motion. “I guess I’m just wondering if your inability to make small talk has anything to do with . . .”
“What?”
“Not being with a woman for a while.” She winced a little, as if embarrassed by her own bluntness, yet she still continued. “Small talk is a significant part of dating.”