Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
He’s never grabbed my ass when we kissed, not even once.
And I’m pretty sure that’s something I would enjoy…
Chris pulls back, dazed, but the moment his blue eyes land on my face, his horniness is replaced by horror.
“Candy? What are you doing here? I thought you were at your aunt’s house,” he says, still clinging to the brunette, who looks more uncomfortable with every passing moment.
“And you were supposed to be on the farm with your dad, muscling through the busiest tree season in a decade,” I say, flapping an arm toward his hands. “Not fondling a supermodel in the Javits Center.”
“I’m a Rockette, not a supermodel,” the woman says, her cheeks flushing pink. “But thank you. That’s so sweet! You totally made my day.”
“Hush!” I point a warning finger at her face. “This isn’t your fault, but you’re not my favorite person right now. No offense.”
“None taken.” She lifts her hands at her sides in surrender before using them to push at Chris’s broad chest. “Let me go, honey. This is getting awkward.”
Chris’s hands spasm, gripping her pert bottom even more tightly for a beat before letting her go. “Right. Sorry.” He steps back, running a hand over his sweating forehead and into his thick brown hair. “Shit, I don’t know what to do. I thought I saw you earlier, but I convinced myself it was just my guilty conscience.”
My jaw clenches and my left eyelid begins to twitch. “You had a guilty conscience two hours ago? How did you fit any tree-selling into your busy, making-out-with-strangers schedule?”
“We’ve been seeing each other for a while, actually,” the Rockette pipes up. “Chris wanted to break up with you in August, but he said you’ve been soooo depressed.” Her lips turn down in a show of sympathy I don’t appreciate. Not even a little bit. “He thought he should wait until you were in a better place. Mentally, you know.”
“Mentally?” The word emerges as an outraged bleat. “I’m fine, mentally! I’m mentally, stellar, in fact!”
“You talk about death all the time, Candy,” Chris says, giving me puppy dog eyes that do nothing to dampen the urge to kick him in the shin. “And exit tension dread, whatever that is. It’s dark, though, I know that much.”
I mutter several curse words beneath my breath. But whether I’m hurt that I’ve been cheated on or ashamed that I’ve been dating a man who has no idea what existential dread is, I’m not sure.
“Existential dread, Chris,” I bite out. “Not exit tension. Existential. It’s the deep psychic uncertainty that life has any discernible meaning or purpose. Buy a dictionary.” I spin to go, only to turn back and aim my finger at the couple a second time. “And another thing, I was going to break up with you when I got home anyway. There’s no spark between us. There never has been and there never will be. I had more chemistry with a stranger I met in a blow-up igloo today than I’ve ever had with you.”
His eyes go wide. “What? You cheated on me?”
Despite my lie-induced guilt from mere minutes before, I only hesitate a second before I shoot back, “Yeah, I did. And it was magical and hot, and I can’t wait to do it again.”
“Good to hear,” a deep voice rumbles from over my shoulder.
Mortification rushing through my veins like ice water, I turn to see Leo Fenton standing behind me, looking good enough to eat in a dark black coat and slouchy black beanie that brings out the symmetrical perfection of his face.
His eyebrows are poetry. His lips are a love song, I want to sing again and again. His dancing brown eyes are the stuff of my wickedest, sexiest dreams.
But I never imagined—even in the wildest of those dreams—that I’d be ending my afternoon in deep lip lock with this man.
He’s bad, so bad, I remind myself as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him.
But, boy, is he good at it, I think as his tongue slides against mine, making electric promises. My arms go around his neck and his hand threads into my hair. His fingers tighten into a fist, laying their claim, and I melt into his strong chest, my body celebrating our connection on a cellular level.
I’ve never been kissed like this, especially not in public.
This kiss is sweet and dirty, tender and demanding, and before I know it, my panties are in a state not fit for discussion. Suffice it to say, I’m fully on board with everything Leo is doing to my lips, my hair, my waist as his hands slide down to…
My ass! He did it!
He’s grabbing my ass! The same way Chris was grabbing Sexy Rockette’s ass, and I like it even more than I thought I would.