Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
The memory of that night flashes through me, piercing my soul before I bury it again.
“Never,” I lie, the one word flowing smoothly past my lips. “You?”
A solid moment passes before he answers.
“Not for a second.”
We smile then, slow and a little sad, because we both know better.
I wish it weren’t a lie. I wish that kiss didn’t still haunt me, but it does. And by the way he’s looking at me, I’m pretty sure it haunts him too.
At some point we stopped dancing, lost in each other and the moment. Our breaths turn shallow, hearts racing, eyes locked as if neither of us remembers how to let go. It consumes us, like we’re the only two people here…until a loud pop cracks through the air, plunging the bar into darkness.
I stiffen, immediately clutching Linc’s shirt.
“Easy…” he murmurs, his tone cutting through the startled voices as he keeps me anchored against him.
Several seconds pass before someone calls from behind the bar, "That’s a wrap, folks. Power’s out!"
Groans sweep through the room as couples reluctantly peel away from the dance floor, using the light of their cell phones to guide them.
Linc settles our tab, tossing a wad of cash on the counter, then takes my hand, leading me toward the door.
Even in the dark, he feels unshakable.
We step out into the night, the rain still coming down in buckets.
Our eyes meet under the overhang, an unspoken agreement passing between us…we’ll have to make a run for it.
Without thinking, we sprint through the storm, laughing as we race for cover. It doesn’t feel like an inconvenience this time—it feels wild, reckless, and strangely freeing. Like we’re kids again, daring the world to try and catch us.
Whiskey thrums in my veins, leaving me unsteady, but Linc is always there, keeping me grounded.
We tumble into the room in a breathless rush, the click of the door silencing our laughter and casting us back into darkness. The only sounds left are the steady patter of rain and the ragged pull of our breaths.
Through the shadows, I can just make out the hard lines of his body through his wet T-shirt, the rise and fall of his chest syncing with my own.
Silence stretches, heavy and charged, before he finally breaks it.
“I lied,” he rasps, voice almost damaged. “I’ve thought about that kiss every fucking day since it happened. Dreamed about it. Ached for it. And I still do, every damn time I see you.”
The confession tears through me, shattering the last of my defenses.
I don’t think—I just move, throwing myself into his arms.
It’s a surrender that’s been years in the making, like leaping into a fire we’ve spent half our lives outrunning. All I can do now is hope we don’t turn to ash.
I swore I’d never make myself vulnerable to this girl again, never give her that kind of power over me. Yet here I am, stripped bare with that fucking confession. And I’d do it all over again if it meant this—her in my arms, mouth on mine, hands clawing for more.
It hits like a detonator. One pull of the pin, and the grenade goes off, unleashing an explosion I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
I don’t—I want it all.
My hand fists her wet hair, yanking her head back as I take full control, devouring her like I’ve been starving for years. Nothing about it is soft. Nothing careful. It’s hunger, it’s whiskey, and it’s rain.
It’s Harlow fucking Hayes—reckless, addictive, and finally mine to claim.
“Been waiting a long time to fuck this mouth again,” I growl, teeth catching her bottom lip.
Her hips push against me, a needy moan slipping free before she covers it with that usual sass. “Took you long enough.”
I half laugh, half groan, knowing it’s a fair statement. “Don’t worry. I’m about to make up for every goddamn second.”
My hands move for her shirt, stripping it away in record time. Her bra is just as drenched, the lace plastered to her skin, nipples straining beneath.
I brush my thumb over one tight peak, and smirk at the whimper she releases. Then my mouth is there, closing over the wet fabric, teeth grazing sharply.
She gasps, desire thrumming through every line of her body as she fists my shirt, yanking at the heavy material. “Take this off.”
I pull back just long enough to remove it, then I’m back on her, flicking the clasp of her bra. The straps give, sending all that soft flesh spilling into my waiting hands, the skin-on-skin contact dragging a growl from me.
“Christ, Harlow,” I rasp, squeezing tight. “You’ve got a great set of tits, baby.”
They’re big for how slender she is but she carries them perfectly.
“Thanks,” she breathes, ragged and uneven. “I’m pretty proud of them myself.”
A rough chuckle escapes. “You fucking should be.”
My mouth closes over one candy pink nipple, sucking deep and hard, until all I taste is rain, heat, and her.