The RSVP (The Virgin Society #1) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
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Portrait of a man breaking. It’s happening. Before my very eyes. This is art, and I love it.

My pulse beats wildly fast.

But I’ve been patient. I’ve waited for my chance. I stay patient.

He will bend. He will break. “Am I, Bridger? Am I that tempting?” I ask.

His nostrils flare. He exhales harshly. “You’re destroying my self-control, Harlow.”

I hum, like the wicked vixen I am with him. “Then…ruin it. Just ruin it.”

He grabs my face, and he takes what he wants—my mouth in one hot kiss.

16

LIKE CHERRY

Bridger

I’ve done it. I’ve stepped over the line I swore I’d never cross. But, as I sweep my lips over hers, it’s still not too late. I could stop.

This could be one hot kiss that’s over far too soon, and then I’ll walk away.

Nearly exonerated.

I could say it’s a mistake.

Write it off as a one-time thing that’ll never happen again. If I don’t let it go any farther, that is.

But as our lips brush once more, my bones crackle with electricity. Then it’s as if the whole city sparks. We kiss like a storm, like thunder and lightning, and the sky breaking open. And in this tempest of a kiss, I know. I just know.

There’s no turning back.

I could stop. But I won’t. And so I will take what I want.

I clasp her face, and I crush her lips, consuming Harlow.

This is so wrong.

Her luscious sighs fill my head.

This is so right.

She’s so responsive, melting under my kiss, murmuring sweet sighs and gasps. Her sounds go to my head. Her longing electrifies me.

And I need even more.

Deeper. Closer. I’m unwilling to stop. Uninterested in a thing beyond this office. She’s here with me and fuck the world.

Her hands climb up my chest, traveling over the fabric of my shirt. Gripping me tight, refusing to let go too.

A tug from her.

A push from me.

And we are a tango of a first kiss.

Her lips taste incredible. She’s like…

I break apart, panting. “You taste like cherry,” I say.

“It’s my lip gloss.”

“It’s addictive.”

Her eyes twinkle. “So take another hit.”

“I will,” I say, but first, I indulge with my eyes, savoring the sight of her. Her beautiful face, from her glittering eyes to her pretty lips to her delicate neck.

I want to explore every inch of her body. Want to kiss all the terrain of Harlow, learn how she tastes everywhere—her collarbone, her neck, her stomach, behind her knees, between her thighs.

With that, I kiss her again, and my brain goes haywire. My body overheats.

She grapples with my shirt collar, those nimble fingers clasping tight. A needy moan falls from her lips as I kiss her.

I suck on her bottom lip. She whimpers.

That sound.

That sexy sound is killing me.

I should not know what she sounds like when she’s turned on.

But now I do, and now I am consumed with even more want. It runs through my blood. It drives me on. I nibble on her lips, a mix of teeth and tongue, soft and hard, push and pull.

Then, when she ropes her eager hands around the back of my neck and tugs me impossibly closer, it’s hardly a kiss anymore.

It’s foreplay.

I press my body to hers, letting her feel my arousal, craving hers desperately too.

So much it’s driving me mad.

Making me reckless.

One more kiss and I’ll stop.

But her lips, and her scent, and her hands roaming over me…

I have to touch her. I let go of her face, drag a hand down her side, brushing the outline of her breast.

She trembles, then murmurs, “Oh, god.”

It’s enough for me to break the kiss. To stare at her with, I’m sure, wild eyes.

She looks back at me with even wilder ones. “Bridger,” she whispers, her voice like smoke.

“Yes?” I ask hazily.

“I want you,” she whispers.

Three words and I might as well surrender.

I hardly know what to say. I want you too is patently obvious. Instead, I slide my palm along her hip, brushing the outside of her thigh, heading for the hem of her skirt. The whole time she’s gazing up at me, lips parted and red, neck stretched long and inviting.

“And you are entirely bad for me,” I say at last. Because it’s true. And necessary.

She just smiles. Slow, a little wicked. Then she bites the corner of her bottom lip before she says, “But that’s not stopping you, is it?”

I grit my teeth, trying, fucking trying, to stop. But then, she tilts her chin. An invitation. “Have you thought about my neck before?”

It’s like she can see inside my filthy mind. I breathe harshly.

Walk away. Just walk away.

I don’t walk away.

“Too much,” I admit. I don’t even know what rational thought is anymore. I’ve lost it with her.

She lifts her right hand, and sensually, seductively, brushes her fingertips along her neck, then down to the hollow of her throat, then just a little farther. Teasing at the top of her breasts. Leaving a trail for me to follow.


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