Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Want, not wanted…
She chews on her bottom lip. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m a whore, especially after that idiot running out of here on Tuesday. He didn’t even get me off, and there was no sex. He literally came on my back when he was eating me out. Badly.”
I blink, surprised by the rage that burns within. I want to know why he came on her back while eating her, but then I get it. I almost blew my load too; her pussy is fucking magical. But the real question I need to ask myself is, why do I care who comes on her? This is a one-time thing. She can do what she wants. But that whole line of thinking goes to shit when she blushes so sweetly, my teeth hurt.
She chances a glance at me and whispers, “Sorry, I’m nervous, and I tend to overshare when I’m nervous.”
“Whatever do you have to be nervous about?” She doesn’t answer, but I can tell she needs my reassurance. I don’t know why I want to give it to her, or even why she thinks she needs it. She doesn’t even have to explain herself. As long as she’s not fucking him anymore, I don’t give a damn.
Wow. I really just thought that. Yup, I’m in deep shit.
I swallow hard, knowing I need to disentangle myself from this gorgeous siren, but instead, I move her hair out of her eyes, unable not to touch her. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“I wanted to,” she admits, licking her bottom lip. “Just so you know I’m not out here sleeping around with everyone. I’m actually picky—”
“Louisa.” She presses her lips together, and I kiss them. She melts into the kiss, and I cuddle her closer. Against her lips, I whisper, “I don’t care about anyone before me.”
And I just said that out loud. It’s as if I’ve lived by the rules I made since my ex, and here I am ignoring every single one because of…what? Fantastic fucking sex? I need to get out of here. Now. But I don’t move, and I know it’s not because of the fantastic fucking sex. It’s because of Louisa. I’ve been intrigued by her since the moment I saw the sign for Dirty Pages. And when I saw her, fuck me, I wanted her.
And now…
Gone are my thoughts when her lashes kiss her cheeks before she cups my jaw. I’m completely distracted by her as her eyes burn into mine. Fuck, she’s so gorgeous. “I think pomegranate-orange muffins are my new favorite.”
I grin. “Me too.” I kiss her nose then the side of her lips before squeezing a chunk of her ass. She giggles as I murmur against her heated skin, “You are so beautiful.”
Her lips curve. “I don’t know why, but I believe you believe that.”
“You don’t?” That surprises me. Surely she knows how gorgeous she is.
“I mean, I do. But it’s different when you say it.”
“I’m only speaking the truth.” I move my nose against hers. “You’re beautiful, Lou.”
“I obviously like the way you look.”
I knew that before she even said it. When her gaze landed on me the other day, it was heavy with want, and I felt as if she was looking inside me. Deep inside. Even now, I feel it everywhere. “So far, we are both fans of muffins and we like the way the other looks.”
She snorts, rubbing her chest into mine. “And the sex is explosive.”
“Oh yes. How could I forget that?” I tease huskily.
“Rude,” she practically moans.
“Right? I’m ashamed,” I mutter as her lips curve when she leans in, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is gentle, sweet, and slow. She draws my mouth open, her tongue sliding along mine as I cup her boob in my hand. I can’t get over how good she feels, and I don’t want to ever stop touching her. She licks up the roof of my mouth, and I groan against her mouth. When her lips turn up at the sides, I can’t help but be breathless. I don’t want this to end. I don’t, but still, I have to ask, “Do you need to reopen?”
I see her pause, and the hesitation is there. “I don’t, but I probably should.”
“So, I should leave?” I don’t move, though, and neither does she.
“No way. Not yet,” she decides without faltering. “I’m just saying I should because I didn’t go visit my sister with my other sisters because I wanted the shop to be open and I’m waiting for a shipment.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. I’m the eldest.”
I move my hand up her neck and thread my fingers through her hair as I tip her head back. “Is your assistant your sister?”
“Eliza? Yeah, she’s the second eldest, then there is Austen, who lives in Nashville, and finally, Elliot and Clara, the babies.”