Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She likes to touch. But since I set her on her feet earlier, she hasn’t touched me. Yet.
“I like you watching me,” she replies. The air between us thickens, and for the first time since I met her this morning, Kate shifts from one leg to the other, like the thought of enjoying my attention is uncomfortable for her.
She turns and immediately someone calls her over. There are only two tables left, and one has just asked for the bill. I check my watch. I figure we’ll be out of here soon. And then I get to have her.
I continue to watch her as she sees the final customers out, locks the door behind them and starts to fill the little tin pails that sit on the tables and hold the cutlery. She occasionally talks to the guy behind the bar or the chef or whoever is around the corner I can’t see. I watch as she diligently wipes down every table, careful not to miss a square inch, then tucks in all the chairs and disappears behind the bar.
She reappears a couple of minutes later, her hands behind her back as she unties her apron.
“I’m done,” she says, folding her apron and setting it down by the cash register.
I can’t help but smile. “Am I next on your list?”
She laughs. “My list is complete. The rest of the night is . . .”
“Mine?”
“I was going to say mine. But maybe you can have some.”
I’m beginning to think I might like all of it.
SIX
Vincent
She twirls as we enter the room, and for a moment, I think she’s going to break into song.
“I don’t like to complain, but I was a little disappointed in the lack of show tunes tonight. Is that strictly a daytime thing?”
She lies on the bed, her elbow propping her up, her hand under her head. “I suppose it is. George hates music in pubs, so I have nothing to sing along to.”
“So there’s a daytime Kate. And an evening Kate. And now I get to see after-hours Kate.” I stalk over to her and pull her to her feet.
“After-hours Kate definitely doesn’t sing.”
I tilt my head a little to the left. “But does she scream? My name, specifically.”
She laughs. “You don’t lack confidence—but I’d have to know your name to scream it.” She holds a finger to my lips. “Don’t tell me. I want to guess. Brad?”
I take her hands and thread my fingers through hers. “Vincent.”
She tilts her head, gazing at me, and it warms me from the inside. “Okay, I can see that.”
“I’m pleased you approve.”
She pulls a hand free and trails a finger along my jaw. I have to suppress a shudder. Under her fingers, I feel like a cat with the urge to stretch out and let her run her fingers across my entire body.
“I do,” she whispers.
I cup her neck and hover, my lips almost touching hers. I want to prolong this moment for as long as possible—the moment before we shift gear. I’ve enjoyed the push and pull, her warmth, her humor, and I don’t want the next minute to be less than all that. It’s unusual for me not to want to race to the next stake in the ground. I don’t like to be still, but right now, I have no rush to be anywhere but right here.
The breath between us heats and my pulse pounds like it’s a dog straining to be let off the leash. Her lips are ripe strawberries and I swallow at the thought that so soon I’ll be sinking into the taste of them.
She lifts her finger and strokes over my Adam’s apple. “Even your neck,” she says.
I narrow my eyes. “My neck?”
She lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “It oozes out of every pore.” She says it like that’s meant to be an explanation I can understand. Tearing her gaze away from my neck, she looks up and must see confusion on my face. She adds, “Confidence. Charisma. Whatever it is, you have it.”
“Back at you,” I say. I’ve met a lot of people in my life, and there’s nothing more magnetic than someone who is comfortable with who they are. Like Kate is.
She lifts up onto her tiptoes and we crash together. Our mouths fit like a key in a lock, and I groan at the relief that this moment wasn’t a disappointment. She feels better than I expected and tastes sweeter. I circle my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me so her body slots into mine. She feels like she did when I caught her before she hit the floor: soft in all the right places.
She kisses me like she needs it, like she’s been waiting all night to taste me. I kiss her back the exact same way.