Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I set my glass down, take hers from her hand, and set it beside mine. “C’mere.”
The first kiss is slow, simple, a press that says we have time. She tastes like crisp wine and I want to devour every bit of her. My hand finds the curve of her waist and hers squeezes my shoulder before sliding up to the nape of my neck. The world pulls back, leaving the snap-pop of the fire and the hush of night.
We break just enough to breathe.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I whisper back, and then we’re closer again, angled toward each other, and the kiss deepens. The couch creaks when we shift. The blanket slides, her soft laugh tickles against my mouth, and I feel it like a flame catching in my chest.
The world falls away and right here, it’s the soft glide of her palm against my jaw, the heat rolling off the fire, the kind of connection I write about but never thought I’d feel.
For now, life can spin without me. The signs can wave, the fans can clamor, Derek can hide behind Ficus plants and plan a thousand contingencies.
Right here, this is the only part of my life that I’m sure of.
CHAPTER 16
Penny
The fabric of Sam’s T-shirt is bunched in my fists and I don’t want this kiss to break. I mean… who needs oxygen anyway?
Every kiss pulls me closer until sitting beside him isn’t nearly close enough. I shift, angling toward him, my hand sliding up the back of his neck.
“Penny…,” he warns, that rough edge in his voice giving me shivers. He’s thinking the same as me. This feels like it’s getting ready to become very dangerous between us.
“Stop thinking,” I whisper against his mouth. “Just feel.”
“Oh, I’m feeling, all right,” he mutters before his mouth captures mine again in a bruising kiss.
I accept everything he’s giving, because he’s so thoroughly invested in kissing me senseless and I swing a leg over his lap so I’m straddling him, putting us face-to-face. Sam groans, his hands catching me at my hips like he means to stop me. For one long heartbeat, he holds me there, breathing hard, caught somewhere between don’t and please. Then his grip shifts from resistance to permission, palms flattening against my waist, and he leans back just enough to make room for me.
The couch creaks as I shift, knees on either side of his hips, and he makes a rough sound at the back of his throat that goes straight through me.
“Penny,” he rumbles, his eyes blazing with heat. “I’m not gonna lie… you straddling my lap has my brain close to short-circuiting and I’d be a fool to tell you to stop. But… I’m going to tell you to think about it.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I whisper, not sure which part I’m agreeing to—go slower, don’t spook him, keep kissing him until we both forget our names. Maybe all three.
My grip on his shoulders, I lower my head so my mouth can meet his. Sam’s hands hesitate at my waist like he’s afraid of being greedy, then settle there, fingers splayed, both reverent and possessive in the same beat.
Sam takes control of the kiss, which no longer represents the slow rhythm of two people pushing at boundaries. Now he’s kissing me like he’s starved and domineering all at once, a paradox that makes me ache in places only he can touch.
His mouth moves over my jaw, down the line of my neck, where his teeth scrape deliciously against my tender skin. His fingers flex into my hips, pushing me down onto his very thick and very impressive erection straining at his jeans. He pins me there, head pulling back slightly to stare at me.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice gravelly, “and I will.”
I circle my hips, creating friction between our bodies that almost makes me lose any shred of restraint I have. I manage to whisper, “Tell me to stop, and I absolutely won’t.”
That earns me a laugh that isn’t quite a laugh—more a surprised, can’t-help-it sound he’d never willingly show another soul. I drag my nails lightly over his shoulders, a mapping of muscle, and his fingers dig into my hips. He’s trying to be gentle, but that’s not something I’m interested in. I rock my hips, grind down on his erection, and he kisses me so hard our teeth clash.
A low-grade hiss issues between us, and I’m not sure who let it go. “This is getting intense,” he mutters against my mouth.
“Sam.” I nudge his chin up with a fingertip until he’s looking at me. “Don’t overthink it.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Occupational hazard.”
“Of writing or living?”
“Both,” he admits, that crooked smile tugging at his mouth.
“Then maybe try shutting up for a second,” I tease, leaning in close. “You’re much better with your mouth when it’s busy.”