Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
“I saw your tiger tattoo one night when you had to change your shirt,” I admit. I couldn’t resist spying on him in the break room that one time. Eamon’s eyes are laser-locked on me. “Plus, you bounce around causing mayhem everywhere you go.” I fidget as he stares at me. “And you’re always growling.” Okay, so my reason for calling him Tigger isn’t perfectly thought out, but he just reminds me of my favorite cartoon character.
The look on his face is priceless. Total confusion, total alpha male, totally adorable.
He closes the distance between us so fast that I barely have time to squeak. His big hands bracket my hips, warm and rough and so damn sure. “You’re so goddamn adorable.” My back bumps the edge of the counter, but I barely feel it because his lips are suddenly on mine, hungry and wild and hot enough to melt my mind into a puddle of goo.
Holy shit.
His tongue pushes between my lips, and I open for him without even thinking. All my sass, all my carefully crafted plans for our discussion, just kind of evaporate. My brain is running on nothing but Eamon: his taste, his scent, the way his stubble scrapes my chin as he deepens the kiss. I grab fistfuls of his hair and yank him closer, not even trying to play it cool. His chest is hard and insanely warm under my hands. The kiss goes nuclear while we devour each other like we’ve been starving for years.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing and sets my ass right on the edge of the counter. Before I can even gasp, he’s wedged between my knees, hands gripping my hips so tight I know I’ll have bruises to remind me of this. His mouth is all over mine, hungry and wild and a little bit dangerous, and I can’t get enough.
My brain is whirling at this point. I wind my legs around his waist, and Eamon groans against my lips. “I meant what I said last night,” he growls. “You can’t leave. Not now. Not ever.”
I pull back and stare into his eyes. “It was actually this morning.” I can’t help myself.
“You live to push my buttons, don’t you, Sunshine,” he growls and nips at my bottom lip. The tiny sting sends shivers down my spine that turn into full-on goosebumps when he drags my lip into his mouth and runs his tongue over the spot.
My head falls back as I groan. “The sass just comes naturally. Kinda like breathing.”
“I live for your smart ass attitude.” He kisses me again, and this time, I lose track of everything. I’m dizzy with the way Eamon holds me, the taste of him, the thunder in my veins every time his tongue meets mine. Every inch of my body is awake and aware and screaming yes, yes, yes, even though my brain is making whimpering noises in the background.
He grinds forward into the cradle of my thighs, pushing me back on the countertop, and my girly parts tingle. I swear, the Formica might crack under my ass, but I’m way too turned on to care. Eamon’s hands move over my body, both rough and gentle, hungry and reverent, like he can’t decide if he wants to devour me or worship me.
Fucking hell. I want it all.
I wind my hands in his hair, tugging at the short salt-and-pepper strands, and the growl he lets out has my panties instantly soaked.
He breaks away, breathing hard, pressing his forehead to mine. “This is happening. Full stop. I’m done pretending.”
“We have to talk,” I insist, hating my reasonable side.
“We will talk,” he promises, mouth brushing mine before I find the will to protest. “After. Right now, I’ll die if I don’t make you mine.”
“We definitely don’t want that.” I drag his lips back down to mine.
He lifts me off the counter, cradling me like I weigh nothing, and carries me down the hall toward my bedroom. My heart is pounding so hard I think it might explode. I’m vaguely aware that my hair is a mess, my pajamas are ancient, and my apartment looks like a crime scene, but none of it matters because Eamon is kissing me like there’s no tomorrow.
He lifts me up and deposits me onto the bed—a little reckless, a little gentle. My gaze sticks shamelessly to him: the way his chest rises and falls, the ropes of muscle in his arms, that wild swirl of black-and-blue ink curling under his ribs. I drink it all in, greedy. My eyes snag on the tiny scar above his left nipple, and for the first time, I notice a thin, silver barbell through his left nipple. Holy hell. That’s so freaking hot, I nearly forget to breathe. He stands over me, chest heaving, and it hits me that I’ve never seen him this raw, this unguarded.