Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I remembered.” I touch my lips to her throat. “I never forgot a damn thing about you, Sutton. You’ve haunted me for five years.”
She turns those wide eyes on me as I pull a plate toward us and start loading it up. “You haunted me, too,” she whispers. “I, um…I used to tell myself that I only looked you up to make sure you weren’t causing problems, but it was a lie. I looked you up constantly, just to feel close to you. Just because I couldn’t let you go.”
I groan softly, flipping my arm over to reveal the Ferris wheel tattoo hidden on my forearm. “I got this for you.”
“The carnival,” she whispers, reaching out to run one fingertip across the lines of ink.
“It took everything I had not to kiss you in that bucket that night,” I murmur.
“I wanted you to do it.” She licks her lips, looking up at me. “So damn bad. It was the whole reason I begged you to ride it with me. I was going to kiss you when we got to the top.”
I groan quietly, curling my fingers around hers. Neither of us mentions why that didn’t happen. Vanessa convinced Jamison to get on the ride at the last minute. They ended up in the bucket right beside ours, able to see everything we did.
But up there that night? With the wind blowing in her hair and the sky around us? It still felt like it was just the two of us. I wanted to stay there with her. Instead, we finished the ride and got off. Two weeks later, the whole fucking world came crashing down around us.
I’ve thought about that night a thousand times over the years, wondering how things might have been different if I had kissed her.
“You’ll just have to make it up to me,” she says.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmhmm. A redo.”
“I can make that happen, princess.”
She grins, happy in a way that looks too fucking good on her. I can’t resist pulling her into another kiss, this one longer, more intense.
“Fuck,” I groan when I break away, panting. “I can’t get enough of that mouth.”
“Well, too bad,” she teases. “You promised me cake. You have to feed me now or I may waste away.”
I chuckle, shaking my head before I finish scooping her favorites onto the plate. She reaches for a fork, but I quickly grab it.
“Let me.”
Her eyes darken, smoldering, as I scoop up a bite of pasta, lifting it to her lips. They close around the fork with her eyes locked on mine.
I chuckle through a groan when she pulls it into her mouth, and her eyes immediately widen. “Holy shit. That’s good.”
“Surprised?”
“Um, yes. I did not know you could cook.”
“I picked up a few skills.”
“Clearly,” she says, impressed.
My dick is hard as a rock against her ass as I feed her another bite, listening to the way she moans as soon as it’s in her mouth. “You’re killing me here, princess.”
Her wicked laugh tells me that’s her plan, but fuck it. Two can play that game. I feed her with one hand and slip the other beneath her skirt, running my fingers up her thigh.
She squirms on my lap, parting her thighs for me.
I don’t give her what she wants so badly, though. Instead, I tease her, touching her everywhere except where she wants me, as I feed her bite after bite. By the time the plate is half empty, she’s a whimpering mess on my lap…and I’m so fucking hard I feel like my dick is going to break in half.
I eat her for dessert while she eats her cake…and break damn near every dish I own when I sweep them off the table to lay her out across it afterward.
She’s the best fucking meal I’ve ever had. I’m pretty sure she agrees.
Chapter Nine
Sutton
The next week passes in a blur. I spend every night in Jordan’s bed. Somehow, he even convinces me to stay when he has to fly out for a game. I pretend to be annoyed about him being so bossy, but in all honesty…I love it.
I love being in his space. I love spending time with him. I love discovering everything I missed. He’s the same he’s always been, but he’s different too. Darker. More demanding. Cranky as hell sometimes, too.
We don’t talk about Jamison. But Jamison certainly does his best to intrude. Every time I turn around, he’s blowing up my phone. Most of the time, I don’t even bother to answer. But after a week of him annoying the hell out of me, I finally pick up.
“What do you want?” I growl, juggling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I try to get ready for Jordan’s game.
“Oh. So you finally decide to answer, huh?” Jamison mutters, sounding pissed. Like I’m the one who did something wrong.