Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“All right,” Ciarán croons.
“When ya return, his gift is in the blue room. Ya can take him there,” Dylan murmurs to Taegan, not looking away from me.
“Got ya, boss.”
Taegan and Ciarán move past us to leave. I knit my brows, trying to figure out what to do next. I’m drawn to him, but my common sense is telling me this could be a colossal fuckup.
“So, people threatening me makes you angry?” I taunt, lifting a brow at him. “Or is it the fact that I’m not interested in dating you?”
Before I can wrap my mind around what’s happening, he backs me into the door behind me that his assistant and my brother just left through. I gasp as he lifts me onto his waist and crushes his lips to mine.
I whimper into his mouth and push my hands into his hair. He groans and deepens the kiss. His kiss is hungry and a bit aggressive, but I’m not complaining.
I should push him away, but my brain isn’t with that idea. Neither is my body. I shiver against him as he pushes his hand under my shirt and cups my breast.
I’m a decent C cup, but his large palm engulfs my entire mound. His big hand is so warm. A moan leaves my lips as he flicks his thumb over my nipple. My entire body awakens to his touch.
“You were saying? You’re not interest in what?” he breathes against my lips as he breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to mine.
“Huh?”
He chuckles and places me back on my feet. “Come here, I have something for you.”
“Dylan … I … I’m not ready for that. I’m still a virgin.”
“So am I,” he says and winks. “As much as I want you, that’s not what I’m talking about. Come with me.”
“Wait, are you serious? You’re a virgin? But you ooze sex.”
He scoffs a laugh and shrugs. “Maybe, but aye, baby, I’ve been waiting for you.”
“What if you never found me?”
“That wasn’t an option. I made you a promise. You will be my wife someday. Now, come on,” he says, leaving me speechless.
A look crosses his face so quickly, I don’t have time to try to place it. He links his fingers with mine and tugs me with him. It’s crazy, but in this moment, I think I’m falling for him. My mind is reeling with this new information.
“How old are you?” I blurt out as he leads me to the couch to take a seat.
“I told you I have you by two years, remember? I just turned twenty-three. Don’t sound so surprised. All my firsts belong to you. You were my first kiss. I want to give you all the rest too.”
I’m stunned. Oh yeah, I’m falling hard. As we sit, he reaches for a tote bag sitting on the coffee table.
Reaching inside, he tugs out two photo albums. I watch with curiosity, while still playing his words in my head on repeat.
All my firsts belong to you. You were my first kiss. I want to give you all the rest too.
“When we left Ireland, I was devastated. Ma thought making these would help. I had planned to give you one. I remember having them and thought you would like to take a look,” he says with a blush on his cheeks.
I drop my gaze to his lips, wanting to kiss him again. He’s sitting so close his thigh is touching mine. Seeming to read my thoughts, he leans in and pecks my lips.
Pulling away, he places one of the photo albums on my lap. I run my hand over the top and smile at the purple ribbon tying it closed.
I’m hit with another memory and gasp as I palm my head. Dylan scoots closer and runs his hand over my head. The look of concern on his face only draws me in more.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Another memory?”
“Yes, our first kiss and the roses you gave me tied in the same purple ribbon,” I say as I finger the sparkly fabric.
A smile lights up his entire face. “You were so pretty. I don’t know what made me kiss you that day.”
“I remember being surprised but happy.”
“Let’s see if we can spark something else,” he says, pointing to the album.
I clear my throat and begin to turn through it. Tears come to my eyes as I find a picture of the little boy and girl from my memories. I run my fingers over the face I’ve drawn so many times, not knowing it was him. A tear spills free and falls onto the page.
“I don’t think I ever truly forgot you. I’ve been drawing this face for years. I just didn’t know who he was. I would dream of your face and wake to draw it, over and over again,” I say just above a whisper.