Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Not that sneaking downstairs to eat Cherry Garcia out of the carton is worthy of a fashion show.
Besides, Ryker’s asleep.
Soundlessly, I open my door and pad down the hallway and descend the stairs. Ryker had little night-lights installed throughout the house, so it’s not pitch black, and they help me find my way to the kitchen, where I turn on the light over the stovetop, retrieve a spoon from the drawer, and then open the freezer and pull out the pint of ice cream.
I pop off the top and take a spoonful, moaning as it melts in my mouth.
That’s good.
Ice cream always satisfies.
I hop up on the island, facing the window that looks out to the property, and let my feet dangle as I take another spoonful. I like it when the house is quiet and dark. Even through the window, I can see that it’s a cloudless night, and there are a billion stars shining tonight. There’s no light noise out here in the middle of nowhere.
Suddenly, the air shifts, and I feel Ryker walk into the room behind me.
“You okay?” he asks from the doorway. His voice is low and a little rumbly, and just as sexy as the rest of him.
“Sure.” I don’t look back at him, just hold the pint out. “Want some?”
He takes it out of my hand and lifts my spoon to his mouth, taking a bite, and then boosts up onto the countertop next to me, almost touching me, and I can feel the heat coming off him.
I almost choke when I glance his way.
He’s shirtless.
Because of course he is.
And he’s in gray sweatpants.
Because of course he fucking is.
He passes the carton back to me, and I lift the spoon to my mouth and hope that it’s dark enough in here that he can’t see the way my body is betraying me, or how my breathing has picked up.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.
I shake my head and scoop up more ice cream. “You?”
“No. Must be a full moon or something.”
I glance at the window. “I don’t see any moonlight out there.”
“Hmm.”
He takes the carton from me, scoops up a bite, and then passes it back.
“What’s on your mind, Trouble?”
You. Me. Naked.
I can’t say that.
“All kinds of things, I guess. You?”
“Nothing and everything,” he replies.
“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.” I lean against him, wanting just a little physical contact, and let out a small sigh.
To my surprise, he jumps off the counter and starts to pace.
Ryker’s always been a pacer. Whenever he’s deep in thought, his feet are moving.
“Thank you again for my booth,” I say, needing to fill the quiet with something other than my desire to reach out and touch his smooth skin. “It’s seriously amazing, Ry.”
He nods and pulls his hand down his face, as if he’s agitated. “You’re welcome. I feel better having you here.”
“I know. I hate the drive too.”
“No.” He props his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with your drive. I just feel better with you here.”
I bite my lip, watching him.
“Why does that make you mad?”
With a humorless laugh, he faces me and steps forward, nudging his way between my knees, and tingles spread all over my body. His hands drift up my bare, goose-bump-covered thighs to my hips and stop there, just holding me in place, and that’s our only point of physical contact.
But his dark eyes are on fire.
“Are you okay?” My voice is a whisper.
“Yeah. I’m okay, Wills.”
I swallow hard and offer him the carton of ice cream. “Do you want another taste?”
His eyes fall to my lips.
“Yeah, I fucking do.”
I offer him the spoon, but he takes the melting ice cream out of my hands and sets it on the counter.
“That’s not what I want.”
His hands lift to my face, and his lips cover mine in the gentlest of kisses. I plant my hands on his bare sides, making little circles with my thumbs and reveling in how smooth and warm his skin is as he deepens our kiss with a moan in the back of his throat. “You taste so damn good.”
He changes the angle and covers my mouth once more, licks the seam of my lips, and I open for him. His tongue tangles with mine as my hands skim up his back and down his shoulders.
I want to touch him everywhere.
I want him to touch me everywhere.
His magical hands drift down to my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, through my thin shirt, and I arch into his touch as electricity zings down my spine, making me gasp. I can feel his hardness pressing against my center through his sweatpants, and holy shit. There’s a reason why this man gives off big-dick energy. He grinds into me, rubbing against that sweet bundle of nerves that want nothing more than for him to make me come.