Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
He glances my way, heat in his expression that makes me keenly aware of the warm vibration of my seat again. “Has anyone ever told you that your mind is incredibly sexy, Wendy Ann McGuire?”
I swallow and shake my head, shocked to feel my nipples tight and tingling beneath the bodice of my bridesmaid’s dress. “No, they haven’t.”
“Well, it is,” he says, in a rough voice that makes me believe him. “Incredibly sexy.”
“I think yours is pretty nice, too,” I murmur.
“Nice? Just nice?” He smiles, a wicked grin that makes me want to kiss him again.
Right now.
So, I do.
I lean across the console and press a kiss to his cheek.
His voice even huskier as he murmurs, “Your lips are so damned soft.”
“And you’re the most compelling man I’ve ever met,” I whisper, kissing his jaw, then his neck, my nerve endings tingling. I’ve never been this bold, but it feels right…perfect, even.
He exhales a ragged breath. “Should I pull over?”
“Pull over?” I ask, running the tip of my tongue across his skin, humming in appreciation at the clean, but lightly salty taste of him. Even his skin is delicious.
“So, I can kiss you again properly,” he says. “If not, you’ll have to stop. I’m going to run off the road if you keep—” He breaks off with a soft curse as I swirl my tongue against the pulse in his throat. “No more of that, Wendy Ann. Not if you want to wait until we’re behind closed doors.”
I grin, feeling delightfully wicked. “You wouldn’t,” I whisper, brushing the tip of my nose back and forth across his jaw. “You’re a respectable physician, not a man who does salacious things to a woman on the side of the road.”
“I’m a respectable physician on his way out of town,” he says, his hand curling around my thigh, making the pulse between my legs beat harder, deeper. “And I could find a nice dark place to park so we wouldn’t be seen.”
I bite my lip, easing back into my seat with a hint of regret. “All right, I’ll be good.”
As much as my body aches to have him closer, I don’t want my first time to be in the backseat of a car.
“Please, don’t be good,” he says, his fingers tightening on my thigh. “Be as wicked as you want to be, just…” He flashes me a shaky smile. “Wait until we’re back at my place? For our mutual well-being? I don’t want to put your safety at risk.”
I nod. “Same.”
Speaking of safety…you should probably let him know it’s your first time. That would be good information for him to have before he assumes you’re going to know exactly what to do.
Or before he rushes in, penis-blazing.
I wrinkle my nose at the inner voice.
Penis-blazing? What is wrong with me?
Penises don’t blaze and my body was literally made to do what we’re about to do. Having sex isn’t like running a marathon, for goodness sakes. I don’t need to train or ease into this with some kind of couch to 5K program.
I just need to relax and let nature take its course.
And to keep my mouth shut and refrain from giving Connor any reason to change his mind about our steamy night together. He’s a good man, the kind who might have qualms about “hitting and quitting it” with a virgin, and I really don’t want tonight to end in a friendly goodbye.
I don’t want to say goodbye to this man until tomorrow morning, after we’ve spent a steamy night together, one I already know I’m never going to forget.
Chapter 2
Connor Sinclair
A sapiosexual lost in a
lust fog unlike anything
he’s experienced before…
Sapiosexual: (n)—a person who finds intelligence attractive or arousing…
Iremember the exact moment I realized I was different than other teen boys. I was in the backseat of my mother’s car, on the way to wrestling practice during my freshman year of high school. She was listening to a podcast about the housing crisis. The host, a razor-sharp man with Ivy League credentials was interviewing his wife, an equally brilliant journalist specializing in economic policy.
Their vocabulary was extensive and their take on the subject matter compelling, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.
It was the way they parried back and forth, the speed and playfulness of their banter. They caught each other’s verbal volleys and returned them without hesitation, gently challenging each other’s assumptions and layering fresh understanding into their answers based on the feedback they received, allowing them to penetrate to deeper levels of comprehension than they could have alone.
Or if they’d been chatting with someone who didn’t match their intelligence…
As I listened to them speak, my pulse beat faster and my nerve endings buzzed. This interview about the housing crisis—something I couldn’t have cared less about as a fourteen-year-old—was doing things to me.
It was making me curious, alert, and a little…envious.