Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
It’s raw.
Emotional.
Somehow, this feels harsher.
He won’t leave my lips alone, but I don’t fight him anymore, clinging to them as intense pleasure builds inside me, my legs splayed to either side, my hands clenching within his as we move in tandem, our breathing as tangled as our tongues. He shifts his position, forcing my hips up a fraction, and then he’s hitting that delicious spot inside me.
Heat floods my core.
He groans with the sensation, a guttural sound that tells me he won’t be able to hold off for long.
“How thin are these walls?” I ask.
“It’s brick.” He pants. “Do you care?”
“No.” Let everyone in this swanky building know how completely Garrett can unravel me.
My orgasm crashes like a tidal wave, my body clamping down on him as I cry out his name and buck against his hips. He follows seconds later, his arms tensing with guttural moans. He swells and then pulses inside me as he empties. With the last shudder, he collapses on top of me, his weight nearly unbearable.
For several long seconds, we say nothing. I lie limp, reveling in the combined feel of his heartbeat pounding and where he’s still buried inside me. “That was …” I can’t find the rest of the words to describe it.
Incredible.
Intense.
Terrifying.
“See? You just haven’t been with the right person.”
If missionary feels like that did, I’ll gladly burn my Kama Sutra. But something tells me it has nothing to do with the position and everything to do with the man lying on top of me.
“I love making you scream like that,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against my neck.
I close my eyes, warmth blooming in my chest. “What a coincidence. I love it when you make me scream like that.” But what’s more, I love hearing him use the word love.
And I think I’m falling in love with Garrett.
The words itch my tongue, waiting to be spoken.
Oh God. How did this thing between us get so out of hand? I don’t even know him. At least not the laundry list of favorites and bad habits I’m supposed to be able to recite before I can declare I know him.
But I know how I feel every time he walks into the room. I know how he consumes my thoughts, infuriates me, and sparks my laughter, how my adrenaline spikes with the anticipation of every interaction, no matter how big or small.
I’m addicted to Garrett. I can’t get enough of him.
But this can’t happen. I’m still stewing over my last heartbreak. I’m not ready to set myself up for my next one.
“Your heart’s beating so fast,” he murmurs.
“I know.” Because panic is exploding inside me. I think I’m having an anxiety attack.
His fingers have loosened their grip. He rolls off me, slipping out in the process, his hand smoothing over my hip. “You must be starving. One of my favorite places is a few blocks away. It’s an easy walk, if you’re up for it? We can give Joe and Sara a call, see if they can handle brunch. If they’re not too hungover.” His chuckle is soft. Oblivious.
I’m feeling light-headed.
Brunch at Garrett’s favorite place … with the family.
Sounds perfect.
Sounds like a relationship.
But that’s not what we are. We’re just great sex. How long before Garrett sees that? How long before he finds someone more appropriate to settle down with like Bill did?
“You know what? I should get going home.” I need to put space between us, to give myself time to think before I let this go any further.
“Now?” He pulls himself onto his elbow to stare at me. A flash of something skitters across his face that I can’t read but leaves me feeling cold.
I swallow against the urge to recant, to tell him I want to stay forever. “Now.”
Garrett’s bare feet pad over the hardwood as he carries my things to the door for me. “You sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I have a ton to do at home.” Like get my mental state examined because I’m scurrying away like a feral cat caught in an alleyway, running from this man I’m falling head over heels for.
And my gut tells me he knows it.
“I’ve got work to do too.” He smooths a hand over the back of his head, but I don’t miss the way his throat bobs with a swallow. He may have work, but he was going to put it all off to make time for me.
Justine, you’re such an idiot.
A confused, scared idiot.
“Hey, I never asked you about Friday night. What happened with Shirley—she still angry?”
“She wasn’t there, so I assume so.”
His forehead wrinkles. “Is that normal? For her to not be there?”
“Nope. She’s never missed a Friday. Anyway, if you’re still looking for my help with the meeting—”
“Justine.” He sighs heavily. “If you still think this is some elaborate ruse to get my project approved, you are giving me way too much credit.”