Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“I was a line cook for a while,” I tell her. “In a hotel restaurant.”
“West Weston, you what!”
“In college,” I tell her, nodding. “I told you I had no money. My girlfriend at the time got me a job at the Claremont Hotel. I would help make the little canapés for wedding receptions, and she was one of the waitstaff who would walk around and offer them on a tray.”
“Romantique,” she says, grinning. She’s pulled her silky gown up past her knees and her legs kick forward and back.
I walk over to her, stepping between her tanned thighs. “We used to take the leftovers home, and to this day I can’t look at a stuffed mushroom or bacon-wrapped shrimp without feeling queasy.”
She laughs, reaching forward to push my tux jacket open and set her hands on my waist. “Tell me more about what you were like in college.”
I lean forward, kissing her once. “You did know me in my youth.”
“Yes, but graduate school.” She kisses me. “And I mostly saw your backside as you left the apartment. Not a bad view, even then.”
I kiss her again. “Hmm, let’s see. College Liam was pretty shy, still into computers,” I say, and then catch myself, “until he wasn’t. He didn’t really party, loved hiking and sailing on the bay….”
“And did you have this girlfriend for all of undergrad?”
“The first three years.”
“Wow, that’s a long time.”
“It was.”
“Where is she now?”
I shrug, kissing Anna’s jaw, her throat. She smells like sugared oranges. I want to sink my teeth into her neck. Being this close to her, smelling her, feeling her… I’m suddenly so hard, I feel lightheaded. “Probably back in Italy.”
“Is she—?”
“Hey, Green?” I murmur, dragging my lips over her collarbone. “I don’t really feel like talking about Chiara right now.”
“Chiara is a pretty na—” She halts at my glare and covers her mouth with both hands, mumbling, “Sorry,” from behind them.
I slide my hands under the hem of her dress, coaxing it higher up her thighs. The satin is heavy and lush and moves over her skin like water. Her legs are strong, skin warm as if she was just in the sun. But when I reach her hips, there’s nothing else there.
Straightening, I look up at her face. Fire licks down my spine. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“Everything gave me a panty line and I hate thongs.”
There’s a quiet beep behind me, the oven alerting us that it’s preheated, and I pull my hands from her dress and turn to quickly slide the pizza onto the rack. When I return to her, I immediately get back to where I was, spreading her legs to step between them.
She sends her arms around my neck, pulling me close. “Hug me,” she says, pressing her mouth to my neck. “I didn’t like being mad at you earlier.”
I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her close. “I didn’t like it, either.”
When she shifts, she presses herself against my cock. With a quiet moan, Anna drags her teeth up my neck to my earlobe and I slide my hands over her back, bare in the plunging dress.
“This dress makes me crazy,” I say, kissing along her shoulder. “It’s what sent me across the room earlier. Seeing Jamie touch your back set me off.”
“I know.” She tilts her head, giving me better access to her neck as I kiss my way up to her jaw, to her mouth, where I suck at that full, perfect bottom lip. When I release her, she whispers, “I’m not saying I didn’t sort of like it.”
“Yeah?” I trail my fingers up her spine, reaching the strap of the dress and drawing it off one shoulder, kissing the skin there. “What did you like about it?”
“Well, Dr. Weston, I think that version of you would fuck me into the floor.”
At these words, heat flashes beneath my skin, my hand curls into a fist around the strap of her dress, and I sink my teeth into the sweetness where her shoulder meets her neck. “Is that what you want?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes…” I flick my tongue over her collarbone, and she moans quietly. “What about now?”
“Right now, I really want to get to know your body,” she says, running her hands up my sides, over my chest, up my neck, where she cups my face, bringing it to hers. She kisses me, slow and lush and sweet. “I want you to learn mine, too.”
I pull back to look at her. What she said is so simple, so obvious really for two people who are careening headlong into being intimate, but it feels so rare to hear it. I bend, half groaning, half laughing, into her shoulder. But I’m distracted by the warm bare curve, her sharp inhale when I kiss her skin, and the way she pulls me closer, pressing her chest to mine. A rogue thought takes hold: What kind of bra could she possibly have on? “Are you wearing any undergarments at all?”