Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
But that’s okay. Maybe I’m strong enough to handle it all. Claire thought I was, and who knew me better?
No one. Maybe not even myself.
With a final glance back at the mural, that ten-foot tall manifestation of my previously untapped potential, I draw my other leg over the sill, brace my hands against the wood, and jump.
14
JESSE
Inside my apartment, I am buzzed.
My bones hum with desire.
My throat is dry.
Anticipation is killing me and turning me on at the same damn time.
Especially when Ruby unhooks the front of her overall shorts, tugs off her tank, then slides down the strap of her bra.
Nibbling on her lip.
Giving me a shy, but eager smile.
Ready.
So damn ready.
Just like I am.
After all these years.
Years.
Hell, that’s what this is.
Years in the making.
Since she stretched out on my car during college.
Since we picked cherries that summer.
Since she walked into my shop two days ago with pie on her face.
This feels inevitable.
I could deny it. I could pretend tonight is born of the list, fueled by the last two nights of connection.
But the list is teaching both of us. She’s opening her heart and mind to new possibilities.
And I’m seeing the one in front of me.
Her.
She was never mine, and she’ll never be mine, but she’s the woman I want.
The woman I’ve wanted.
Desperately.
When I lift my hand, brush my fingers along her shoulder, I shudder.
Because this moment feels meant to be.
Once I admit that to myself, I release a shaky breath and let go of all the reasons I held back in the past.
For tonight—hell, for the next few days—there are no more limits.
No more denials.
Only this.
I push her other bra strap down then slide my hands around to her back, unhooking and letting the lace fall to the floor.
My breath catches.
“Extraordinary,” I say, mesmerized, repeating my word from earlier.
She is indeed stunning.
The breasts I’ve openly ogled in her sports bra are on display and even though I’m not a boob man, or an ass man, or a leg man—eyes and lips are my weakness—Ruby’s tits are everything.
As in, everything I could want.
“You,” I breathe out, since I’m knocked senseless by her. But not so senseless that I freeze.
Hell no.
I need to touch her everywhere. “Need my hands all over you,” I growl.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Her breath hitches as she adds in a whisper, “I have a feeling you’re good with your hands.”
“Count on it, sweetheart,” I say with a devilish grin. I cup her breasts, sliding my thumbs over the nipples, brushing them until they’re diamond points.
She gasps, arching into my palms. “Feel free to do that all night.”
“There’s so much I want to do to you, Ruby.” It feels like the truest thing I’ve said in ages. “Starting with getting the rest of these damn clothes off of you.”
I tug at her overalls, guiding them down over her hips. “Let’s get you naked, woman.”
We do the undressing dance, quickly shedding the rest of our paint-streaked clothes, leaving a pile of shorts, shirts, and overalls on the floor.
We’re down to my blue boxer briefs and her pink panties, and my eyes feast on her—all curves and softness and skin I want to lick everywhere.
I loop an arm around her waist, bring her to the bed, and set her on her back. Her knees are up, and this—this pose—is pure art.
My Ruby, all flushed and sexy as I peel off her pink panties.
My pulse surges as I take her in. Glistening, pink, wet.
She’s both nervous and excited, judging from her eyes.
She twirls her finger in my direction. “Off with your pants, Hendrix.”
Laughing, I shed them, loving that she’s still playful with me even in the heat of the moment.
But once I strip, the look in her brown eyes is no longer playful. It’s seductive, sensual, and rich with heat as she stares shamelessly at my cock, thick and hard for her.
I give her what she seems to want. I grip my cock, slide my fist down it, my breath shuddering as I stroke myself once, twice, nice and hard, all while she gazes with heat in those soulful brown eyes.
“Oh, God,” she groans, letting a hand drift down between her breasts.
In a second, I am on her. I cover her body with mine, my lips crashing down on hers, our hands flying everywhere.
I travel over her arms, her waist, her breasts, all while our lips hungrily explore. My tongue skates over hers, and we can’t seem to get enough of each other.
Her hands are greedy, mapping me, traversing my arms, journeying down my chest, and soon we are a blur of tangled limbs, flushed skin, and eager fingers.
I get reacquainted with her breasts, kneading, squeezing . . . making her moan into my mouth and arch into my palms.
I shift her so we’re side to side, kissing like we can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I want to consume as many of her kisses as I can, imprint them in my mind, store them up so I can recall them whenever I need to remember the most sensual, sexy kisses ever.