All the Wright Moves – Wright Series Read Online K.A. Linde

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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The guy held his hands up. “Hey, tough guy, I was talking to the lady.”

“West, it’s fine,” Nora said, putting her hand on my arm. “Let’s just go home.”

“This your boyfriend?” Chip asked in confusion.

Nora laughed. “No, no, no. Just a friend.”

I arched an eyebrow at him, and Chip backed off.

“Cool. Friend. Right,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

Nora waved at him and then strode out of the bar. “That was weird,” she said. “Why was he acting like that?”

Him and not me. Well, at least that was a relief.

“Pretty sure he bought you drinks, hoping to get you home,” I told her.

“Oh,” she said with a nod. “Right. I’m not really interested in that.”

I breathed out slowly. Although I was teaching her how to flirt and getting her out there to date, I wasn’t sure how much I could handle like having her bring guys home on the regular.

The thought sent a chill through me. Yeah, I didn’t like that idea at all.

I helped Nora into the passenger seat and then drove us back home. If possible, she was even drunker by the time we got there. As if that last drink had hit her hard on the drive. She kicked her shoes off and carried them inside as she stumbled through the garage.

“Oh my God,” she said with a giggle. “I haven’t been this drunk since college.”

“Careful,” I said as she pitched forward.

I wrapped an arm around her middle to keep her from face-planting into the living room. Once she was steady on her feet, I gently released her, and she went tumbling anyway.

She lay sprawled on the floor, laughing. “Fuck, I am so fucking drunk.”

“Can you get to bed?”

“Yep.”

Then, she began to crawl across the hardwood floor in her dress. My eyes landed on her ass. Luckily, the material was flowy enough to cover her, but every inch of creamy thigh was on display, and if I were anyone else, I could have gotten a completely free show as she crawled on her hands and knees toward the back bedroom.

“Fuck,” I growled under my breath.

“I’m going to have bruises,” she said, flopping back down and rolling onto her back. “Someone is going to think I’ve been sucking cock.”

I closed my eyes. Fuck, her filthy, drunk mouth was turning me on. And I needed to get that under control.

“Can I help you?”

“Suck cock?” she asked, her eyes wide and thoughtful.

I nearly choked. “To your bed.”

“You want to get in bed with me?”

“I…” Jesus fucking Christ.

“I thought my brothers said look, but don’t touch.” I gaped at her as she was sprawled out on the floor, her arms stretched over her head. “Did you get a good enough look?”

“Nora,” I groaned.

Where the hell had this come from? Thank fuck I’d gotten her out of the bar when I did. The shy girl who was awkward around guys turned into a sex kitten when drunk. I was never going to be able to scrub this image of her out of my mind.

“Please let me help you to bed.”

She nodded and held her hand out. I pulled her to her feet, and when she stumbled again, I gave up, scooping her in my arms. Her head lolled against my shoulder as I walked down the hallway.

“I think I had one too many,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Maybe so. I didn’t realize you had no tolerance.”

“Tamara tried to up my tolerance one summer in college, but all that meant was, I got drunk all summer long. It never did anything,” she admitted.

“Let’s not think about her. You did good tonight. We’ll try to drink less next time.”

She settled into my arms and said nothing.

I toed open her bedroom door. The room was spotless with just as many plants as the living room. I hadn’t been in here. It was her private sanctuary. I could see her eye for design in every aspect of the place—from the wood bed to the fluffy white comforter and pillows to the shaggy brown-and-pink rug.

I lowered her gently onto the bed, the mattress dipping inward as her weight sank into it. “There you are.”

She looked up at me with those starry-blue eyes. I hadn’t realized when I set her down how close we were. I was still leaning over her. Our breaths mingled in the space. Part of me wished that I were drunk enough to give in to that look right there. I could claim her lips, pull her lush body against mine, and teach that dirty mouth all the ways I could make it moan.

“West,” she whispered, “I had a good time.”

I swallowed. “Me too.”

She reached forward, brushing back my hair from my eyes. “Are you going to cut your hair?”

“I haven’t decided. Should I?”

“I like it both ways,” she said, dragging her hand down my cheek.

She drew me in closer. So close. I breathed in the Tiffany’s perfume she sprayed on herself every morning. Our lips nearly touched. I could practically taste the honey on her lips.


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