Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“I’ll check your clothes in the dryer and—”
“You think I’m sexy?” I blurted.
Roman’s lips quirked at the corners. “Yes…”
“Cool. Likewise. And I’m here for nine more days.”
“I see. And what are you suggesting, Chance?” he asked, leaning forward so the inside of my knee brushed his.
“Oh, nothing lascivious. Get your mind out of the gutter,” I chided. And yes, that was nothing but hypocritical bullshit. My mind was always in the gutter. “I was thinking that if you’re interested, we could…hang out this week. No strings attached. I have a few meetings, but I have a lot of free time too.”
“Nothing lascivious?”
“Well, I’d definitely be open to lascivious. Sure. But you could just show me the city, let me take you out to dinner, and…I don’t know, continue our ongoing ‘Would You Rather’ game. Would you rather have free food for life or free airfare for life? Airfare for me…although now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds like a bad answer. Whatever, I’m sticking with it, so don’t—”
Roman closed the distance between us, wrapped his fingers around my nape, and sealed his mouth over mine.
I was too shocked to make sense of the sudden yet happy change of events. His lips were soft, but his hold on me was firm and unwavering. He dominated with an ease that gave me full-body shivers. And the second he pushed his tongue inside, I hummed in approval, draping my arms over his shoulders as he effortlessly pulled me to my feet.
And damn, he was an expert kisser. He splayed his hands on my hips, slyly lowering them to rest on my ass as he tilted his chin, deepening the connection with the sweeping glide of his talented tongue. We made out, testing angles as we got better acquainted.
I loved the feel of his stubbled jaw against mine and the playful drag of his teeth across my bottom lip. I was weak in the knees and out of breath when he gently pulled away.
“Was that what you had in mind?” His voice was pure gravel. Gah, I could have melted at his feet.
I nodded, awestruck and breathless…and yes, still hungover, but feeling better by the minute. “Yeah, I’d be down for more of that.”
Roman smiled. “Me too. Give me your phone number. I’ll make a reservation for dinner tomorrow at…”
I listened with half an ear as he droned on about a great restaurant on the Thames with panoramic views of London. He was still talking as he moved into an alcove off the kitchen, reappearing with my clean socks and the briefs I’d been wearing last night. He handed them to me, pausing to stack my breakfast dishes before continuing into the kitchen.
I dropped my stuff on the table and followed him…as if his nearness would help me decipher sentences like “walk from St. Paul’s” and “great pub across the river.” I didn’t care about cathedrals, restaurants, or pubs. I wanted his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my ass again. And standing in his kitchen in borrowed clothes left me with just the right amount of “nothing to lose.”
“We don’t have to go anywhere.”
Roman turned off the faucet and dried his hands on a dish towel as he pivoted toward me. I did my best not to flinch at his thorough once-over. He was out of my league for sure, but I wasn’t a troll. And I had a few things going for me—a good job, good friends, some money in the bank.
Oh, and I owned my condo…which was nowhere near as nice as this one. Then again, bragging about homeownership wasn’t a go-to flirty maneuver. In fact, it was kind of douchey.
I wracked my brain for something sexy to do or say, but the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other were at war on this one.
You should strip. Put on a show, Magic-Mike style.
Leave your clothes on!
Lose the sweats first…slow shimmy and—
The sweats stay. Do not shimmy!
I was working through the shimmy debate when Roman hit me with a slow-moving, wicked grin that rendered speech impossible.
“Oh? You want to stay…here?”
I fixated on the stretch of his cashmere sweater across his broad shoulders, hoping to keep my gaze from straying south. No such luck. His scrumptious jeans hugged his cock to perfection. He might not be rock hard, but he was definitely rocking a semi. That had to mean I was on the right track.
“Yeah, I do,” I replied, tugging his tee over my head and tossing it on the counter.
Yep, the devil won.
Roman licked his lips, his gaze traveling over my torso appreciatively as he leaned against the counter and crooked his finger. “C’mere.”
I obeyed, stepping so close his sweater grazed my pebbled nipples. My cock was a beat away from tenting my sweats. I somehow controlled the impulse to strategically sway into his space. If something was going to happen, I needed him to make a move. I couldn’t be the guy who got wasted, passed out, sponged off a Good Samaritan, then made a pass at him. I needed feedback…or something.