Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I open it and set the broom down. He wedges past me and puts down his items. Then I reach for my purse on a shelf, since I left it here earlier, but Gage steps in, moving faster and snagging it for me.
As he hands it over, the bag buzzes. He cocks his head. “Is your purse purring?”
I should be embarrassed. But instead, I roll my eyes—at me. “That’s just my Plus One.”
He jerks his head. His tone is pure intrigue as he asks, “Plus One?”
“It’s the name for this tiny little pocket friend,” I say, dipping my hand into my bag to find the tiny rose-gold vibe and silence it.
But his hand covers mine. In a heartbeat, he’s setting the purse back down then cupping my cheek, holding my face and studying me, like he’s weighing choices and consequences. Risks and rewards. The great and terrible appeal of a romance that we won’t let be.
We’re pretending to be in love while fighting to stay apart.
Yes, it’s hard.
But this? Tilting my chin. Parting my lips. Saying yes with my eyes. This is easy. Welcoming his kiss.
He takes my invite and raises it, crushing my lips to his. We kiss more, hungry and urgent. A kiss that’s a countdown. A kiss that knows it’s running on borrowed time. He bites my lower lip, tugs on it, groaning as he seals his mouth to mine.
He kisses me like a man in charge. Like he has zero regrets. Because this is what’s been keeping him up at night—the need to touch me again.
Same here. I feel it too. And I feel swept away by the insistence of his lips on mine as he grips my shoulders, holds me like he won’t let go, marks my mouth.
With a carnal groan, he breaks the kiss, his eyes glinting with desire. “This is a bad idea.” But his tone says it’s the only idea.
“It is.”
“We said we’d be hands off.”
I glance at his strong hands, gripping me tightly. “That’s true.”
He hauls in a breath. Blows it out. Stares at me, then says, “But what if I’m not really touching you?”
“You were really kissing me,” I point out since, well, you can’t fuck semantics.
He runs a finger over my lower lip possessively. “I was. It’s important that our affection seems real,” he says, and there’s a wink in his voice.
“Are you going to kiss me like that in front of our customers?”
“No. But no one will doubt I do.”
I flash back to Sebastian’s eyes on me the other day. To the jealousy I saw flame in them. “No one does.”
“But there’s a loophole in your purse, baby. I think we should use it,” he says, then nuzzles my neck, kissing me savagely, inhaling me, traveling to my earlobe. “Let me.”
It’s utter desperation in his tone.
And between my thighs.
Who am I to argue? I’m a little helpless to this man today. But then, it’s not only today. It’s been this way the last few weeks. “Do it now,” I urge.
In no time, I’m fishing around in my purse, swiping past makeup and tampons, sunglasses and energy bars, hair clips and hand sanitizer, then finding the little faux lipstick tube.
He’s all determination, the man in the movie tasked with breaking into the vault in less than five minutes. With a feral sort of focus, he tugs up my skirt, turns on the vibe to its lowest setting, then rubs it on the outside of my panties.
“I hate that you were so wet, so turned on, so needy,” he says, stroking me with the toy.
I suck in a breath. My thighs tighten. “I was.”
“Makes me so fucking sad when you’re so wet and I’m not fixing that problem for you.” His voice is gritty, needy too.
The toy buzzes, a low hum as he coasts it across my soaked panties, teasing me from the outside.
I’m so aroused already that I barely have any flirt left in me. I just lean my head back against the shelves. “Please,” I pant out.
His smile is too pleased. His hand is too skilled. “Please what, baby?”
“Please make me come,” I whimper.
“I’m working on it,” he says, his grin deepening. This man loves to play. He’s sliding the toy slowly in a maddening circle over the outline of my aching clit.
I moan in agony. “Work harder,” I demand.
A sensual laugh. Another tantalizing circle. A lingering glide.
I grab his shirt. “Gage!”
He glances down at me, tsking. “I thought we said no touching?”
“Fuck that loophole. You kissed me senseless. That was touching,” I say.
He dips his face to my neck again. “You’re fucking sexy when you’re horny, Elodie. You know that? You’re so fucking sexy when you need to get off,” he says, stroking me a little faster now, then turning up the vibration a level.
I gasp. Then shudder. “Yes. Please. God.”