Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“I will never lie to you again. Never. Believe me.”
He did tell me the truth. Now. Before I slept with him. If he just wanted sex, or something casual, he’d have kept that to himself. Would I allow his mistake to erase the weeks of deep, caring conversation, of easy, fun banter, of a strong connection that made me feel less alone in the world?
Looking deep into Chris’s dark eyes, I saw him.
I saw his genuine remorse.
I saw his kindness.
And I saw the way he saw me.
To Chris, I was special. I mattered.
I rushed him, throwing my purse on the floor as I dashed across the room. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled his head to mine and finally, finally, his lips were on my lips.
Chris jerked his head back before I could even feast on them. “Hallie?”
Understanding, I gasped, “I forgive you, and I also have serious romantic feelings for you.”
“Just like that? You’re sure you forgive me?”
“How quickly did you forgive me?”
“Within a few hours.”
My lips twitched, my fingers flexing on his nape. “Well, I could wait a few hours to pretend to consider it further if that would make you feel better or—”
The rest of my words were swallowed in his kiss.
His hungry, searching, desperate kiss. I felt the hem of my sweater dress ride upward as Chris bunched the fabric in his fists at my back. “You’re killing me in this sweater,” he panted against my mouth, walking me backward as he pressed kisses along my jaw. “It makes a man think very, very dirty thoughts.”
Note to self: tell Althea she was right about this outfit.
“Get up here. I have more apologizing do,” he growled, sliding his hands under my ass to lift me. I wrapped my legs around his waist with a girlish squeal that he once again swallowed with his mouth.
I clung to his body, to his lips, as he carried me.
When I came up for air, we were in his bedroom.
His bedroom.
Where we were about to have sex.
Chris laid me gently on the edge of his bed, and I unwrapped my legs, releasing him. He stared down at me with an intensely focused expression.
Nervousness returned as he whipped off his T-shirt.
Yup, he looked just as amazing as I remembered.
His body was hard and smooth and powerful.
It was intimidating.
There was no cuddly softness to him, like George.
Chris worked out and worked hard to keep his body in this godlike shape. He’d had to for his career.
I wasn’t perfect like him.
My belly was soft, not toned, and it had a slight roundness to it, which I could probably eliminate with some sit-ups, but the very thought bored me to tears.
Until now, staring at this gorgeous man who wanted to have sex with me.
A man I was falling in love with, so I kinda wanted him to think I was the sexiest woman on the planet and that I was the best sex he’d ever had.
Fuck.
I should have done sit-ups.
Feeling myself slide out of the hot, hazy, mindless passionate place I’d been enjoying more than life, I jumped desperately off the bed to reach for Chris’s pants. I needed back to that place pronto!
Unfortunately he bowed his head to unzip himself at the same time and our heads collided.
“Oof.” I stumbled back, clutching my head, and Chris laughed, reaching out to steady me.
“You okay?”
While I flushed with mortification at my clumsiness, he kissed my head, his lips trailing across my temple as he murmured, “Better?”
I nodded, but the head bump firmly spiraled me into a full-blown panic.
While I was always an overthinker when it came to first-time sex, the stakes had never been higher. I couldn’t be bad at sex with Chris.
“Let’s get rid of this thing finally.” His fingers curled under the hem of my sweater dress, and I braced myself, lifting my arms over my head so he could free me of it. My eyes slammed closed as the fabric brushed up over my face and cool air caused goose bumps to rise across my skin.
Would he think my tits were too small? They were average-sized boobs, but if Chris was a boob man, they might fall short of his expectations.
I tried to remember how big Darcy’s were.
Why was he at the bar with Darcy tonight?
He kissed me again, and I curled my fingers around his nape, trying to fall back into the kiss. I was almost there when his hands slid possessively down my back to grip my ass. He squeezed, groaning into my mouth. Even though I could feel how hard he was against the zipper of his jeans, all I could think about was what he’d think when he clapped eyes on my backside in the far-too-bright lights of his bedroom. Would he see the cellulite at the back of my thighs? Chris’s ass was rock-hard. Why hadn’t I been doing those daily squats my mom suggested when she saw me in a bikini last summer? Why?! I bet Darcy did daily squat thrusts.