Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“I was a troublemaker growing up, Brooke. Don’t let this sweet face fool you.” I give her a smoldering grin that’s not at all sweet.
“Maybe you still are?” she asks with an arch in her brow and a hint of sultry in her voice.
“Maybe I am,” I say, sensing an invitation in the air between us. It crackles with the same energy as when we met.
The same energy that’s damn hard to resist.
The car in front of me slows. I try to peer around the cars ahead to get a read on the situation. But it’s kind of pointless in this city.
I turn to Brooke, and she’s nibbling on her lip again. Dirty thoughts seem to flicker across her brown eyes as she says, “How are you a troublemaker these days?”
Fuck holding back. “I want to get into all kinds of trouble with you,” I say as I turn my gaze fully to her, my eyes roaming up and down her sexy frame. When our eyes lock, heat flares between us and I’m rumbling her name. “Brooke.”
“Drew,” she whispers, her voice threaded with desire.
“Do you like trouble?”
Her breath seems to catch, then she nods shakily. “A lot. Especially right now.”
“Same here.”
I lift my hand, reach for her face, and cup her cheek. She gasps, and before either one of us can say another word—before I can evaluate or analyze—I dip my mouth to hers and kiss those delicious lips. Her tongue darts out, and she nips me back, running her teeth along my bottom lip, and out of nowhere a quick kiss turns into a hot, dirty one.
A car horn honks behind us, and we pull apart. But the white sedan in front of me has only moved ten feet. I drive slowly, running one hand along Brooke’s leg, down to the edge of her dress. My fingers play at the hem, and she murmurs as we slink along at a snail’s pace. My eyes drift to her legs, so toned and strong. The whole look she’s working tonight is killing me.
Maybe one touch will satisfy me.
Or maybe I’m just a troublemaker.
I inch my finger under her skirt. She lets her knees fall open the slightest bit.
It’s an RSVP to trouble and I take it. “I’m not feeling friendly toward you whatsoever,” I rasp.
She’s quiet for a beat, then she whispers, “Don’t be friendly.”
And I run with it.
My fingers travel up the soft flesh of her thighs. Then, higher still.
She tugs her skirt up farther, then spreads her legs.
14
THE GOOD KIND OF TROUBLE
Brooke
Surrounded by cars but totally alone behind tinted windows, this is trouble, but the good kind.
I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve had a hard enough time coming with a guy in bed, so I’ve never tried to steal an O out of the boudoir. But when Drew touches me, I feel daring.
The man is focused on me, on helping me finally get out of my head.
His fingers slide along the damp panel of my panties, then he flashes a wicked grin as he slips one under, rubbing against my wetness. I arch into him.
“Oh, honey, I’ve missed this,” he says in a dirty purr.
“Me too,” I admit, my breath coming fast.
“Traffic rocks,” he says, as he paints dizzying strokes up and down my center.
My hips seek out his hand.
I spread my legs wider.
A rumble escapes his lips. “Yeah, do that. Love seeing you get so turned on you spread your legs for me.”
His dirty words are a charge, as if someone plugged me in, and I’m now electrified. The pleasure builds, rippling across my skin.
He drags a finger down me slowly, then brings it to his lips and sucks off the taste. “Fucking delicious,” he murmurs as he returns to me.
I whimper as he strokes.
“If we weren’t stuck in traffic, I’d go down on you.” His voice husky. “Bury my face between those pretty legs.”
“I’d grab your hair, pull you close,” I say, getting into the scene.
“You’d fuck my face hard—wrap your heels nice and tight around me, and I’d devour you,” he says in a low, dirty growl.
I’m lost. I’m absolutely lost as he touches me, faster and impossibly faster still. Every muscle tenses blissfully as an orgasm charges through me.
I cry out as I come undone in his car.
When the release subsides, I blink my eyes open, and wow.
Suddenly, the cars are moving. Traffic is unstuck.
Drew licks his fingers once more then grips the wheel, navigating through moving traffic like a pro. “Maybe you have superpowers. One orgasm and you broke through the traffic jam.”
“Just call me Miss O,” I say, breathless.
A satisfied smile lights his handsome face. “By the way,” he says, his tone full of pride and happiness, “I still owe you.”
“You do,” I say with a dopey grin. Only, I’m not thinking about my pleasure. I’m thinking about his. “But I owe you too.”