Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
She’s so hot, the warmth of her skin, the flush on her cheeks that looks fevered, the way she steadies herself with a hand on my shoulder that is searing through my shirt to practically scorch the skin underneath. She sinks her teeth into her glossy bottom lip and steps back a little.
“So, thanks again for the job,” she says, straightening herself and smoothing her hair.
I want her in every way that a man wants a woman, and that’s impossible. I shouldn’t have had her come downtown for a meeting. I could’ve just texted her brother the address of her job. That’s what I’ll do from now on. I’ll just contact Rory about her work and they can handle it from there. Otherwise, I’ll push that skirt up and fuck her senseless before she has time to react.
“Yeah, no problem. Good to see you.”
With that, she practically runs from my office, and I let a ragged breath out of my chest. Fuck me, she is going to be the death of me if I don’t get it together.
As soon as she leaves, I notice the floral scent of her perfume, the way my palms remember touching her. All I know is everyone will be better off if I steer clear of Rory Donahue’s little sister.
4
KATE
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I mutter to myself.
I knew the second I walked in his office that I’m just as stupid as I was years ago when I had a huge crush on Mickey O’Halloran. He was rebellious, sexy, a little dangerous. Now he’s more dangerous and even sexier if that’s possible.
Dark hair and pale blue eyes with that sharp gaze that misses nothing combined with the square jaw and nose that’s been broken like a prizefighter in an old movie. All masculine power and the promise that he can be as tender as he is tough, that he can put the stingy line of his mouth to good use outside of work.
It took all of four seconds in the room with him before my impure thoughts went off the charts. I chattered, nervous and talking too much, while I tugged at the hem of my skirt, the one he noticed is too short, because I was trying not squirm in my chair. I practically started dripping the minute he shook my hand, that big, calloused palm engulfing my own. I wanted to feel his fingers in tight, slick places I had no business thinking of during an interview.
There was something about his ice-cold eyes when they met mine right after I kissed his cheek, that gaze that said I could ask him for anything and he’d give it to me. He’d probably think I’m stupid to get all hot and bothered over some one-second stumble on my part, and his chivalrous rescue so I didn’t fall and smash my head on his desk or something.
It wasn’t even my shoes with the sky-high heels or tipping too far forward on my tiptoes. I got dizzy from desire and grabbed his shoulder. A big, heavy shoulder that I want to bite when it’s above me, when he’s working deep into me. Lord, I want his mouth, his tongue, his hands. All of him on all of me.
I drive home in one of my brother’s cars and try to get my mind right. Instead, I’m laying on my bed, my hand working between my legs while I think about Mickey O’Halloran. Just like I did in high school.
He calls me back as I’m leaving the office, says there’s one more thing. He presses me up against the door with his big body, those broad, heavy shoulders blocking out the light as he bends his face to mine. He licks at my lips softly, slowly. I urge him on, tug on his hair. He works my mouth open and plunders me, his tongue stroking deep and making me moan in pleasure. I’m already trying to hold back the yes I want to scream.
Then he shoves his hand in my shirt, grabbing my breast and fondles the nipple, making my blood spike and heat as my nipples grow to hard points under his touch. Ripping open my top, he dips his head and captures a breast, stroking my nipple with his hot, wet tongue. I arch toward him, and he takes more of my breast in his mouth as if he’s starving for me. I moan, arch even further up to him and try to wrap my leg around him to force closer contact between my hot, pulsing core and the pressure I need, the friction I crave.
“You want more, baby?” he asks, his voice gruff as he moves up my body to claim my lips again.
I nod, unable to answer because I feel strung so tightly, vibrating with desire and mindless with need. I try to swallow but I can’t. Not until he unlocks me with a hand moving up my skirt. Then I’m moaning everything filthy I can think of, how much I want him inside me, how I want to watch us join, and how I’ve always wanted this from the time I was old enough to know what wanting meant. He presses a knee between my legs and I grind on it shamelessly. He murmurs encouragement, a sly smile curving his mouth. He’s every bit as cocky as I knew he would be, and he has reason to be arrogant. No one else could hijack all my senses like this or make me beg.