Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“This good?”
“Perfect.”
The opening credits roll. The room dims, green walls almost appearing black in the low light. We’re shut off from the world in here with floor-to-ceiling windows; the chaos and noise and pollution are trapped outside.
Aaron stretches his arm along the back of the couch behind me, casually, dangling dangerously close to my cheek. I feel the warmth of him pressing into my side. The solid weight of his thigh against mine. The scent of his soap and shampoo.
Ten minutes later, I realize I haven’t seen a single thing happening in the movie, despite having watched it at least three times.
“Comfortable?” he murmurs, eyes still on the screen.
“Yes,” I lie.
I am so uncomfortable, hyper-aware of him, made worse when his hand slides from the empty space between us on the couch to my thigh, the heat from his palm branding my skin through the thick fabric of my sweatpants.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, because my voice will betray me.
His thumb shifts then. A slow, absent stroke upward.
“Juliette?”
I find my voice. “Yeah?”
“Know what I can’t stop thinking about?”
I swallow. “What can’t you stop thinking about?”
I want him to say: kissing you, touching you, going down on you…
“Your cookies.”
TWELVE
AARON
“My cookies?” she asks as if she’s disoriented, like my hand on her thigh has scrambled her brain. She swallows, clearing her throat and glancing up at me as my thumb makes lazy circles over the fabric of her pants.
“Yeah.” I smile. “I want to know what your cookies taste like…”
I’m well aware it sounds like an innuendo, but it’s not. I love something sweet, and I can smell them through the box, probably still fresh and melty.
My favorite.
Juliette nods, braid slipping forward over her shoulder, brushing the curve of her breast.
My gaze drops there before I can stop it, and I watch as she scoots forward on the couch, reaches for the box, flips open the lid, and selects one cookie, finally setting it in my open palm.
I take a bite.
And—
God damn.
It’s fantastic. Crisp at the edges, soft in the middle, chocolate still melting. Rich without being too sweet.
I close my eyes to appreciate it.
When I open them again, she’s watching me like my reaction matters, desperate for validation.
“It’s good?” she asks quietly.
I let out a low breath. “So fucking good.”
I take another bite, savoring it, then glance down at the cookie in my hand—and then at her. “You want a bite?”
She nods, licking her lips.
I tilt the cookie toward her. “Come here.”
Her breath catches, but she leans toward me, shifting closer still, our thighs now pressed together.
I hold the cookie between two fingers and bring it near her mouth.
“Open,” I murmur.
She does.
Her lips part, and she takes a small nibble from the opposite edge, mouth closing, and I watch, spellbound, as she chews. The way her tongue darts out to catch a melting smear of chocolate at the corner of her lips. The cupid’s bow.
The pout of her bottom…
A crumb clings to the gloss on her lower lip.
Without thinking, I reach up with my thumb and brush it away, lingering at the edge of her mouth. I can feel the warmth of her skin. The softness.
Her tongue peeks out again instinctively, grazing the pad of my thumb before she realizes that she’s done it.
My pulse kicks up with that familiar tingling in my lower half.
Juliette lifts her gaze to mine. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” My voice is rougher now. “Your cookies taste really fucking good.”
My palm finds her thigh again but instead of resting it there, I slide it over her leg.
Lean in.
Let the space between us shrink, inch by inch. Her hand comes to my chest, fingers splayed over my shirt like she needs something solid to brace against.
I hesitate before our mouths meet, to catch her eyes.
One breath.
Two.
Her lashes flutter.
Then our lips touch.
Her lips are warm and soft and full, pressing into mine tentatively, as if unsure how to go about it—learning. She tilts her head to the left, giving me even more access, and glides her hand to the nape of my neck, nails raking into my hair.
She exhales against me. It’s that small, shaky breath that deepens everything, and I slide my tongue in to taste the sugar.
Chocolate.
Goddamn, she’s sweet.
We kiss, tongues stroking leisurely and deliberate, and then she surprises me—her teeth catching my lower lip in a gentle nip before she soothes it with her tongue.
Jesus Christ…
A low sound rumbles out of my chest before I can stop it. My grip on her hip tightens, pulling her fully onto my lap without breaking the kiss. She straddles me easily, legs shifting to either side of mine, her weight settling over me like she’s been on top of me before.
She kisses me with more certainty now, less tentative. Her mouth opens for mine without hesitation, and I take my time tasting her.