Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
His forehead presses to mine as he releases my lips, and I have to swallow down yet another moan because this man lights my damn fire. He always has, even the times I thought I hated him for being so cavalier and disregarding me.
Maybe I'll spend a little time reflecting on all the things I could do differently that will keep me from feeling like this was a mistake at a later date, but I'm not going to stop things now.
"You're sure about this?" he whispers, the hint of beer on his breath somehow pleasant and not at all off-putting.
"Are you?" I ask because I didn't use my words the time before this, and maybe if I had, things could've been different.
What would our lives look like now if I had just chatted with him in that closet rather than stepping in closer and pressing my lips to his?
It took every ounce of courage to do that that day, not to mention the pep talk I gave myself, before sneaking out of the house to go to the party. I wasn't a risk taker. I didn't do things that would land me in hot water with my parents, but I was tired of being the goody-two-shoes. I wanted to live on the edge. I would've given him whatever he wanted that night, but other than immaculate kisses and a few brushes of his hand over my breast, he didn't try anything further.
I should've known when the timer went off outside of the closet, and he simply pulled back and walked out, that things weren't going to go in my favor. But I was too stuck in the fantasy of making out with the boy I'd had a crush on since I realized boys weren't disgusting creatures that needed longer showers and some lessons on proper manners.
"Riley," he whispers, his nose trailing down my cheek.
"Hmm?"
"I can't wait to get you inside, to get inside you, but you have to be sure."
I pull in a deep breath, that whisper of history telling me that it's probably best if I leave, but the girl who wanted everything and got nothing last time speaks up.
"What happens when we go inside?" I ask, licking my lips because they still tingle from our kiss.
"Anything, everything," he says, his fingers in my hair gripping me just a hint tighter, and it sends a thrill of anticipation racing down my spine. "You won't be getting much sleep tonight."
He takes a step back, releasing me and breaking all contact with my body, and that lack of confidence I had in high school to approach him a second time begins to bubble back up.
But when I go to dip my head, breaking eye contact with him, he curls that same finger right under my chin, forcing me to look into his stupidly handsome face.
Now is not the time to have a crisis, Riley.
I pull in a deep breath. "Lead the way."
His grin is quick, a hint of mischievousness filling his pretty green eyes, but instead of grabbing my hand and tugging me toward his expansive front porch, he squats, placing his shoulder into my middle, and throws me over his shoulder.
My lungs seize, air rushing from my lungs.
"Mac!" I scream, slapping at his ass. "Put me down. I'm too heavy for this shit!"
"You're fucking perfect," he says while taking the front steps two at a time, as if he isn't carrying me.
I press my palms against his thighs, lifting my body up some so I can see what's going on, but I only get a quick glimpse of the rocking chairs on his front porch and some sparse Christmas decorations. The man is a bachelor and owns a construction company, so the lit-up Santa on the far end of the porch seems a little out of place.
I hear a beep, and in seconds, he's stepping inside. The warm air that swarms around us is a relief to the cool air outside, and it tangles with the heat in my cheeks at him carrying me.
A second after he closes the front door, he slides me down the front of his body, and I swear I feel every damn inch of the man's torso and everything below it before my feet hit the ground.
Awkwardness begins to settle inside of me, so I do the only thing I can think of. I spin and walk a few feet deeper into his home. It's beautiful, and although I've driven by here in years past, I never expected it to be so pretty on the inside. The outside is always kept immaculate, but I guess that's the expectation if people look at his house as to the quality of work they'll get if they hire him.
"This place is beautiful," I whisper, but he grabs my hand before I can step away further.