Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Oflug,” he says against my lips. It takes him maybe three seconds to get over his surprise. And then two hands yank me closer.
Like I said, I’m not used to laying myself bare. But right this second I don’t have a choice. Keaton parts my lips with his tongue, and I moan the second I taste him. What was I ever thinking? I need this man. And even if being half a couple doesn’t come easily to me, I have to try. Nobody has ever gotten under my skin the way he does. Nobody has ever needed me the way he does.
Not one person.
It’s terrifying.
Still. I don’t pull away yet, because the things I want are bigger than my fear. I want the slide of his mouth against mine, and I want the hum of pleasure he makes when I kiss him back. And I want the happy sigh I make when he holds me closer.
Yeah, I’ve got it bad.
I don’t pull back until we both need air. And even then, I tip my forehead against his and stare into his eyes. “I really missed you.” Four little words. So hard to say, but his quick smile makes it worth it.
“Missed you, too,” he says quietly.
I ease back to stand up straight again and look around. This place is like a museum. Art everywhere. “So this is the Hayworth beach mansion, eh? This is where the magic happens.”
“Isn’t it obnoxious?” Keaton spreads his arms wide. “You are probably disgusted.”
I turn around, where there’s another vast living room and more windows that open onto the ocean. Even in here you can hear the low roar of the surf. “That’s not what I think at all. I think it’s an amazing house. And honestly someday I hope I can figure out how to own one just like it.”
“Huh. Maybe we can go halfsies,” Keaton suggests. “Hey, you brought a bag?”
I look down at the rug, where my gym bag fell sometime right after I got a taste of Keaton’s kiss. “Yeah, just in case I had somewhere I needed to stay. There’s a train back to Penn Station at eleven, though. And another one just before two a.m.”
Keaton bends over and grabs my bag off the floor. “Come on,” he says.
“Where are we headed?” I follow him down the hallway.
“My room. Duh.” He leads me toward a big wooden door. Its surface is roughly hewn, like beach wood. Yet it opens neatly to reveal a killer bedroom. The big windows are open, and the DJ’s music floats past tasteful white curtains and a surf board suspended on wall brackets.
There’s also a king-sized, which I try not to stare at.
“You surf?” I ask, because that sounds like fun.
“A little. The Hamptons doesn’t always have great waves. The guys who are really into it spend a lot of time driving around looking for action.”
“Like me on the apps in the olden days,” I joke.
Keaton turns around with a serious expression on his face. “But not lately?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I met this great guy and kind of lost my taste for hookups.” I look away then, because old habits die hard.
Keaton’s room might be fancy, but it’s lived-in. There’s a stack of paperback thrillers on the dresser beside a sandy Frisbee. (See, he is a yellow lab!) And also…a black silk top hat?
“Stay here with me tonight,” he says. “I really want you to.”
“Yeah, I want that, too.” I make myself look right at him again, and I know he can see how much I really do want it. “But only…” I cross the room and grab the top hat. “Only if you can tell me why you have this in your room. Did you mug an eighty-year-old?”
He laughs. “No, but I wore it in a wedding.”
“Is there photographic evidence?” I ask.
“Probably. Besides, that hat is sexy,” he insists. “When I wear it, the babes are drawn to me like moths to a flame.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s see.” I flip it around in my hand and then drop it on my head. Then I move my body in a wave motion to the beat of the music, just to make Keaton laugh.
He doesn’t, though. “I rest my case. You look hot when you do that.”
“Yeah?” I flip the hat off my head and slide to the right, flipping it on again. “Hmm. See, if I were still dancing, I’d try to make something out of this. Props are fun.” I turn around, toss it in the air, and then somehow slide into just the right spot to let it land on my head.
“Keep going,” Keaton says, sprawling out on the foot of his bed to watch me. “Do you miss dancing?”
“No,” I say, and then think for a moment. “Not really. I didn’t like having to be ‘on’ when I wasn’t feeling it. But it had its moments. That pole kept me in terrific shape. And sometimes…” I slap my own ass and slide toward the bed with a dirty grind. “…sometimes all those eyes on me were fun. When the whole crowd is screaming for you, that’s a great moment.”