Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Then we were walking down a short hallway to another bedroom, a small sitting room, and a back balcony. A balcony with, I kid you not, a pool.
“Oh, come on,” I said, shaking my head at him. “A pool on a balcony? That’s a ridiculous kind of opulence.”
“To be fair, it was here when I bought the place.”
“Do you ever actually use it?”
“I do. In the fall and winter, I run for cardio. In the spring and summer, I swim.”
“I hate running. My cousins and aunts make me do it, but I hate it.”
“No runner’s high?”
“I think I have something opposite. Like ‘runner’s hate’ maybe. By the time I’m done, I make honey badgers seem friendly.”
“You’d rather be kicking someone’s ass, huh?”
“I told you about that?”
“That you’ve been trained in mixed martial arts since you were a toddler? Yeah, it came up.”
“I only do actual martial arts in my hometown. When I’m traveling, I take cardio kickboxing classes.”
“Well, you don’t need any more martial arts practice, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, no. Did I flip someone over my shoulder?” I asked. It was something I’d done a time or two with handsy men in bars.
“You did. Me.”
“What? Why? What’d you do?”
“Dared to question that you could do it,” he said, smiling. “I think I still have a bruise on my ass from how hard I fell.”
There was a flash. Barely a memory at all. Just a quick image of Harrison on the ground, eyes wide.
“Was that before or after the ceremony?”
“That was after the ceremony but before the lobster.”
“That didn’t get us kicked out of the casino?”
“Hands may have been greased. Plus, the pit boss really seemed fond of you.”
“I’ve been going to the casinos for years,” I said, shrugging that off. Even though my relationships with the workers on the strip were really important to me.
Up that high, the wind felt colder and more intense, making a shiver rack my system.
“Come on. Let’s get you warmed up,” Harrison said, his hand sliding across my lower back.
A current shot through me.
My breath sucked in.
My head whipped over.
And he was right there.
My skin tingled with memory.
Seeming to sense the change, Harrison’s free hand rose, gently tucking my hair behind my ear.
Then, when I didn’t pull away, his fingers lingered, slid down my jaw, and slipped behind my neck.
His warm hand on my cool skin made another, different kind of shiver course through me.
My gaze held his, watching the intent there just a second before his head tilted and his lips met mine.
He kissed me like he meant to brand me with it. It was all heat and want and promises.
He kissed me like he had something to prove.
I decided to let him.
My hand slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt collar. His arm snaked around me, tightening around my back, and pulling me flush to his chest.
I melted into it all: the kiss, the desire, him.
My lips parted on a moan, and his tongue slipped inside to sweep over mine. Slow at first, then hungrier as I whimpered.
My arms slid around his neck, pulling him tight.
Then we were moving.
Harrison walked me backward.
I pressed back against the cool glass of the door as his teeth snagged my lower lip, pulling until a throaty moan escaped my lips.
He broke the kiss, his head dipping to press his lips to my neck.
Little sparks exploded across my skin, each nerve ending poised, waiting for touch.
He was happy to oblige.
His lips kissed, his tongue traced, and his teeth grazed.
My hands were greedy, sliding down over his arms, down his back, sinking into his ass.
Harrison’s hand slid up the back of my neck, fingers slipping into my hair, curling, and tugging until a pain/pleasure sensation teased across my scalp.
At my moan, Harrison shifted closer, the hard demand of him pressing against my stomach.
His lips sucked at my neck as my hand moved down, palming his hardness through his slacks.
He groaned against my lips, his hips rocking against my hand, chasing every brush of my palm.
Then he pushed me back, forcing the door open behind me before slamming me back against the wall in the hallway.
His hands were everywhere then.
Slipping down my back, sinking into my ass, then gliding up under my shirt—cool fingers on warm skin—until his hand closed over my breast.
My moan drifted down the hallway as his hand yanked down the front of my bra and closed over me without the barrier.
He cupped me, squeezed. Then his fingers circled, flicked, pinched.
My hand shifted up, working at the clasp of his belt before pulling it free and focusing on his button and zipper as he moved across my chest to continue the sweet torment.
I was already shaky with need, the pressure tightening in my core.
Before I could reach inside and close my hand around his length, he was pulling just out of reach.