Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
When he hums against me, his fingers tease my entrance before he slips in. The pillow is discarded as my back arches and my thighs clamp together. “It’s too much. Too much,” I plead to myself.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I bolt my head upright. “God, no. Don’t you dare.” I push his head down, and he laughs but then circles my need until I can’t take much more. “I can’t hold on.” I shake my head, wanting to let go and float to the beautiful abyss.
“Let go, baby. Just feel. Feel how good—”
His voice, the tone, him. He sends me spiraling toward my release. I reach the peak, and my body tremors beneath his warmth and care, his slick mouth, and big hands. I bite my lip to stop the blissful moan that wants to escape.
And as soon as my body finds peace in the stillness, he kisses my lips and my forehead before he falls beside me to lie. I roll my head to the side, and when he looks my way, I say, “That was better than any electronic.”
We both laugh, and he says, “Good to hear.”
But when his hand finds mine, and he takes hold of it between our bodies, I catch the beat of an errant feeling entering my heart. One that is new to me. One that’s blooming only for him.
The laughter stops, and I look up at the ceiling, finding it safer in this space than staring into his eyes. I’m not sure what to say while we lie together like this. He’s just as quiet, seemingly with as much on his mind when I steal a glimpse of him staring at the same boring ceiling.
I roll over and kiss his chest. I want to break the ice, but more so, I want him to feel as good as he’s made me feel. I rub over his hard abs and start going lower, but he catches my hand and brings it to his mouth. He places a kiss on it, and says, “I know we keep saying all’s fair, but you don’t owe me anything, Lauralee. I wanted to do that for you.” Slipping his hand under my hip, he pulls me into his arms. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Arguing doesn’t feel right, so I believe what he says and snuggle against him. When I close my eyes, he kisses my forehead and whispers, “You taste just like shortcake. I think that’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”
A few years ago, heck, even a few months ago, I would have laughed him out of the Pass. But lying in his arms that hold me like precious cargo, I smile instead.
CHAPTER 5
Baylor
My size overwhelms her body. There’s not one part of me that can’t wrap around her in some form in length or width. As I hold her from behind, she fits nicely under my arm, curled against me in peaceful sleep. Her waist is small, but she’s full in the hips. Her legs are lean, but I left a little hickey on the inside of her thigh when they softly gripped the side of my head as she came.
The depth of her eyes still draws me in each time her gaze lands on mine. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls that I can tell drives her nuts. I love it. It’s chaotic and less perfect. Different from what I’m used to in New York. It fits the varied landscape of Peachtree Pass and the way she totters between what she wants, speaking her mind, and what she seems to hold back sometimes when she goes quiet.
Taking a few deep breaths, I exhale slowly. It took me years to find a rhythm to help me fall asleep with the noise of the city. Here, the quiet keeps me awake, and maybe the woman in my arms, though I’ve been content listening to the melody of her soft breaths.
I clear my mind and focus on her and her breathing, feeling the pull to go to sleep harder to fight. Finally, my thoughts fade . . .
Opening my eyes to the dim sunlight of early morning, I roll onto my back, squeezing them shut again, and scrub my hand over my face. A groan comes from exhaustion, but the scent of baked goods softens the blow.
The unfamiliar smells and the way the light threatens to intrude from the other side of the blinds can’t be marked in my mind. I sit up and look around. Time is absent. My surroundings can’t be placed. A turquoise vase with pink flowers on top of a walnut dresser. A framed photo of a blue sky with a cloud escaping in the corner. Where am I?
My eyes dart to the empty bed beside me, and the memories of last night come rushing back. “Lauralee?”