Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
The sugary sweetness.
My hands move from her hips up her back, palms skimming beneath the softness of her sweatshirt, moving up and down again.
When she shifts above me, I feel it everywhere.
“You’re killing me,” I murmur, pressing my mouth against the hollow of her neck, kissing the smooth column, trailing my lips to her ear and groaning.
My dick is hard, and I know she can feel it, too.
I pull back to look at her face: flushed, braid coming undone, eyes shining in the dim light. She already looks wrecked in the most beautiful way and, suddenly, I want to see what she looks like with her hair down around her shoulders.
“We can stay here,” I suggest quietly, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Or… we can go somewhere more private.” And by private, I mean intimate.
Her eyes slide to the doorway. Teeth bite down on her bottom lip as she decides.
“Bedroom?” she says confidently.
I don’t hesitate—obviously, I fucking don’t.
I stand, hands sliding down to her thighs as I rise, lifting her with me in one smooth motion because that’s the kind of guy I am. Why have her walk when I can carry her?
She lets out a delighted gasp and instinctively wraps her legs around my waist, arms tightening around my shoulders. Like that night at her place.
I carry her out of the den, kissing her open-mouthed as we walk through the long hallway to the other side of my apartment, tasting the last of the chocolate off her tongue. She makes soft mewing sounds, sexy moans, and I have to tighten my grip to keep my composure, or I’ll press her against the wall.
We reach my room.
I nudge the door open with my shoulder and step inside.
It’s lighter than the rest of the penthouse, lit only by the city glow spilling in through the windows. The bed is massive and unmade, centered on the wall, white sheets rumpled from this morning. I walk us to the edge and lower her to the mattress. It dips beneath her weight, and I brace one hand beside her head to keep from crushing her.
Juliette pulls away and grabs the hem of her sweatshirt.
My pulse spikes.
She lifts it over her head in one smooth motion, braid slipping forward over her shoulder as the fabric clears her arms. She tosses it somewhere behind her without looking.
The city light washes over her skin.
And for a second, I do nothing but look down at her.
Then I drop to my knees. Reach for the end of her braid—the rubber band—and tug gently to remove it. Once I have the hair tie out, I begin unbraiding her silky hair, strand by strand.
Her breath hitches as I work. I let my knuckles brush her collarbone. Her neck. The top of her shoulder as I separate the woven sections of hair.
“You like that?” I ask quietly.
She nods.
When the braid falls apart completely, her hair tumbles down around her shoulders in a soft cascade, framing her face, spilling over my hands.
I slide my fingers through it once, pushing it back gently from her cheek.
“You’re so pretty,” I murmur, taking her in. “This is what I wanted to see.”
She looks different with her hair down.
Less fragile. Less prissy.
Less perfect.
I comb my fingers through the silky strands again, watching the way her eyes drift closed at the sensation. She turns her head away as if embarrassed by the attention.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispers shyly.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m alre…” She trails off.
“Already mine.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I instantly regret them. Not because I don’t love the idea of her falling head over heels for me. No, the problem is, I like it way more than I should.
I like her already, more than I should.
And…
I am a fucking scumbag, lying like this to her face.
Already mine?
Jesus Christ, Aaron, dial it down a notch. You don’t have to work this hard.
“Don’t go falling in love with me, Aaron Bishop.” She whispers out the warning in a teasing tone. “You know what they say—the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
A low laugh rumbles out of my chest as I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it up my torso. “Don’t you worry, Juliette Kennedy, I am in no danger of that.”
You might be sweet to kiss and fun to fuck, but I will not be catching feelings for you. And I sure as shit won’t be falling in love.
She sits up on the bed, eyes trailing over my chest and stomach when I stand. Her tongue flicks out over her lower lip, and she bites down like she’s eyeing up a medium rare steak on a plate as I step between her knees, hands bracing on either side of her hips.