Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Her eyes flash, but she doesn’t look away or hesitate before she shoots back, “Good. You shouldn’t. I like giving as much as I like receiving, and I owe you one. More than one, actually.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I owe you a safe place to work without fear of harassment or—”
“Bullshit. I’m not afraid,” she cuts in as she shifts closer. So close, I can feel her body heat caressing my chest through her plaid pajamas and my sweatshirt. “You’re the one who’s afraid. You’re so afraid, you’ve been running from me since the beginning. Since that night at McLeary’s, before the boss thing was even in the picture.”
My jaw clenches so tight it sends a flash of discomfort through my skull.
She’s right.
But, “I had my reasons. I still do.”
She tips her head back, bringing her lips closer to mine. “Yeah, I’ve heard your reasons, but here’s the thing… I don’t believe you.”
I grunt, not sure how else to reply.
She doesn’t believe me.
Do I believe me?
I thought I did, but when her lips are this close and her sweet, lemonade-scented breath is teasing at my nose, all my reasons seem stupid. Who cares if she has a family kind of connection to the team? Who cares if she’s younger? Who cares if she’s even my fucking nanny? I trust myself not to take advantage of the power I have over her paycheck, I really do. And I trust her to lay down the law if she feels a boundary’s been crossed that shouldn’t have been.
No, I don’t have reasons.
I have one reason. “I have feelings, okay?” I force out. “For you. That’s the problem. That’s been the problem since McLeary’s, and it’s only gotten worse. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
She blinks, looking uncertain for the first time since she stepped outside. “I… I don’t know what I wanted to hear. I was just mad.”
“You have a right to be mad. I’m sorry. I handled all of this badly.”
So badly.
So badly that it feels like my heart is gnawing through my ribs as I realize this is goodbye. Maybe we’ll hash through a few more logistical things tomorrow, but for all intents and purposes, this is the last conversation I’ll ever have with this woman, the one who made me feel fully alive again for the first time in so long.
“But I’m not mad anymore. At least not about getting fired,” she says, swaying close enough that it makes my eyes cross. By the time she sways back, she’s adding in a husky whisper, “I’m mad that Fate is such a bitch.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Fate is a bitch.”
She nods, her palms settling on my chest with a familiarity that feels way too fucking right. And way too electric for this to be goodbye. “I didn’t want to catch feelings, I really didn’t.” Her gaze drops to my mouth, making my throat tighten. “But I’ll be honest, the thought of never seeing you again makes me crazy.”
“Yeah?” I force out, still afraid to hope.
“Yeah,” she confirms. “And the thought of going one more night without feeling you inside me makes me even crazier.”
And that’s it.
That’s the moment all my best intentions go up in smoke.
I pull her against me, and she meets me halfway, her hands diving into my hair as she kisses me with a moan that finishes the job of getting me fully hard.
Fully, furiously, recklessly hard.
So hard I groan in sweet agony as her hips grind forward.
Our mouths slide together, hungry and messy, breath coming faster, teeth bumping, neither of us giving a shit. Her tongue dances with mine, stroking and summoning, promising the wait is over, that tonight we’re not stopping until I’m balls deep in every hot, pulsing inch of her.
The realization sends a jolt of need shooting down my spine that’s so intense, it’s all I can do not to roll her to the grass and take her right here in the yard. In full view of the girls, or Clover’s boy toy, should any of them decide to take a peek out the window.
“Inside,” I growl as I nip her jaw, her throat. “Need these clothes off. Now.”
“Yes, but not my place,” she pants, arching into me. “My friend is up there.”
“Your friend?” I demand, my skepticism clear in my tone.
She smiles as she kisses me again, promising he’s just a friend with her lips, her tongue before she breathes, “Yes, my friend. Who’s working on something and can’t be disturbed.” We stumble closer to the back porch, hands roaming, clutching. “What about your bedroom?”
“Can’t.” I grip her ass with both hands through her pajama pants. “Bella came downstairs twice before she settled down. If she comes down again, she’s going straight to my room.”
Clover groans, a suffering, frustrated sound that echoes through every cell in my equally tormented body. Her fingers fist in my hair, pulling hard enough to make my pulse kick in my throat. I chase her lips, follow when she tilts her head, fuck her mouth with my tongue, a silent promise that I’m going to make this worth the wait.