Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Locke’s arms come around me and he kisses me back with such ferocity that my brain short-circuits before emptying out entirely. I fall into the kiss, the feel of his tongue against mine, and a tiny thought is almost grateful that Grant showed up because it set into motion a sequence I’m not sure either one of us would have initiated ourselves.
But… there’s a small wave of doubt. I pull back first.
We’re both breathing hard as we stare at each other.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I whisper, because I’m apparently required by some deep professional instinct to say it out loud.
Locke’s mouth curves. “You just kissed me, Livia.”
“I’m aware.”
“So the bad idea was yours,” he points out.
“I’m aware of that as well,” I mutter, my hands flexing in his shirt that I’ve yet to release.
Locke doesn’t move, refusing to press the advantage. The fact that he’s not is very dangerous, because it makes me respect him more.
“I don’t do this,” I say, feeling like I should justify myself. “I need you to know that.”
“Do what?”
“Kiss mysterious men who want nothing to do with me,” I grumble. “I certainly don’t kiss men I work with. Ever.”
He studies me. “I know that.”
“You understand why I’m—”
“Livia.” His voice drops slightly. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you. And I’m not going to make it easy for you to talk yourself out of this. If you want to stop, tell me to stop. I’ll walk out that door and we won’t talk about it again.” His eyes stay on mine. “But if you don’t want to, stop looking for a justifiable reason.”
My heart hammers with fear, indecision, excitement and need. The emotions are overwhelming and I know he’s right.
But I watched him put himself between me and danger tonight without a single moment of hesitation. My resolve was already weakening on that sidewalk and now that it’s come undone, I don’t think I want it to be put back together.
I uncurl my fingers and slide my palms up his chest, over his shoulders, and clasp my hands behind his neck.
I have to exert zero pressure as Locke finds my mouth again. This kiss is different from the first one. It’s deeper and so much slower. It’s as if time has no meaning and we have nowhere else to be. His hand slides to the back of my neck and the other finds my waist and pulls me flush against his body. I feel exactly what this is doing to him and it devastates every rational thought I have left.
I make a sound against his mouth that’s unavoidable, causing his hand to flex at my waist. Locke moves me backward, slow and deliberate, and I go with zero resistance. The backs of my knees find the edge of the bed and we stop there, mouths still connected, his hands at the hem of my shirt.
We break apart long enough for it to come over my head and then his mouth is back and my hands are at his buttons as we take off each other’s clothes layer by unhurried layer. The room is quiet, only the sound of our breathing, and then he’s gone.
Or rather, Locke retreats just far enough to look at me.
His eyes are hot as they roam over my body, and I have no shame. I let him look, because I can see what it does to him and that knowledge feels so powerful.
I do my due diligence and I look too.
He’s utterly beautiful. Lean and hard muscled with a scar along his left ribs. I want to know the story behind it, not because it will help me understand his past, but because I just want to get to know the real man. A scar is so very real.
“Livia.” My name on his lips, low and a little rough, causes a flood of desire to sweep through me.
“I know,” I say.
Locke reaches for his pants he’d thrown on the other bed and I watch him find his wallet. He pulls out a condom, sets it on the nightstand and then moves into me.
We kiss again and then we’re on the bed, his hands moving all over my body. Callouses raise goose bumps, his mouth finds my nipples, and then his fingers probe between my legs where he finds me almost embarrassingly wet for him.
He slides a long finger inside me and murmurs praise. “Good… I like that I make you wet.”
Jesus… his dirty words are unraveling me as much as his touch and I can’t do anything but groan in pleasure as he circles my clit.
Locke has proven in the past that he can bring me to a quick orgasm. The man knows how a woman’s body works and he focuses his attention on that spot that will get me there the fastest. I feel what he’s building inside, and I hold on and ride the wave. I get my hand in his hair when he adds another finger and curls them inside me, and I think I might be losing my mind.