Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I said, my dick aching with how badly I wanted to sink into her. “You’re drenched.” I dragged my thumb over her clit, using the texture of the lace to my benefit.
She rocked her hips against me, gasping between my lips.
Fuck, Brynn was a masterpiece I couldn’t wait to unravel.
She was so responsive, all primed and ready for me to push her over the edge. And I would, too, in so many ways. The first would be right here on her desk using only my fingers. Then I’d use my tongue, and only when I had her soft and pliant and fucking pleading for my cock would I sink between the satin of her thighs.
She stroked her tongue along the roof of my mouth in a claiming way that almost made my knees buckle, but I snaked my free arm around her lower back, holding us steady as I kissed and teased her until we were both panting.
“Wes,” she sighed my name against my lips, nothing but need and endearment wrapping around the familiarity between us.
I palmed her lower back, pushing her closer to the edge as I circled her clit over the wet lace, falling further into the girl of my dreams as we lost touch with reality.
Fuck pretend, I wanted this to be my forever.
I wanted nights and days and more nights with her underneath me, above me, or splayed out on my bed while I edged her until her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Wes,” she said again, her thighs tightening around my hips as I brought her closer to release, adding a little pressure to my teasing strokes. “I—”
Her phone rang, jarring the hell out of us both. She jerked out of the kiss, her eyes flaring wide as she glanced down at the phone on her desk, reading something there I couldn’t.
“Wes, I…I…” Her words tangled in her throat before she clamped a hand over her mouth, wiggling against me until I stepped out from between her thighs, giving her plenty of room to hop off the desk. “I have another appointment!” she blurted out, hurrying into her pumps before she practically bolted out of the door.
I stood there, staring after where she ran off, hard as fuck and confused more than I ever had been before.
Guess we weren’t playing pretend anymore.
BRYNN
I somehow, miraculously, managed to keep myself fully distracted and busy on our ten-hour flight to Iceland.
Enormous product launch for the win.
The workload almost helped me completely, totally, absolutely forget about the definitely unforgettable kiss I’d shared with Weston two nights ago.
His hands on my thighs, one toying with the lace covering my aching center as he teased me and worked me up in tight knots. The way he’d claimed my mouth in powerful strokes that had me gasping for breath all while not getting enough. The way his muscled body had felt against mine, only making me want more and more and more.
Okay, so I hadn’t forgotten a second of it. And yeah, I’d avoided him on an almost uncomfortable level the past few days, but what else was I supposed to do?
Weston had kissed me.
I’d kissed him.
And I wanted more than that.
The moment had been brought about by me pushing him into proving he knew about crossing lines, and then continued under the guise of pretending we weren’t what we actually were to each other—which was boss and employee at the basest of levels, best friends on the deeper ones.
My body didn’t give a shit about those labels, and apparently neither did my heart because the kiss had played on repeat until my skin felt hot and tight on a permanent basis. Jesus, if my phone hadn’t rung, what would’ve happened? If I hadn’t snapped out of the fantasy, stopping us before we went any further, I would’ve given myself entirely to him without a second thought, and where would that put us? It was already awkward enough and we’d only kissed and teased and…yes, I’d ran away from him like a coward, but if I’d stayed, I could’ve ruined everything between us.
Despite knowing all of that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about the way my body had practically snag at his touch.
But at least I hadn’t spent the entire flight staring at him where he sat across from me in his own bucket seat, pouring over a workload that I knew was three times the weight of mine, and I considered that a huge win.
It wasn’t like I could completely ignore him though—he looked really fucking good in his casual gray pants and white thermal shirt.
Too fucking good. I could see every muscle he had beneath the tight fabric, and just seeing it made me remember how great it felt to have him against me…
Ugh!
Not that I needed to imagine. I’d seen Weston shirtless countless times, but I’d never wanted to see him shirtless so badly in all my life. See him shirtless and have the freedom to run my fingers over the dips and grooves of his muscles, kiss his skin, feel him against me with nothing between us—