Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Oh my God! Holy shit!” She pumps her fists in the air.
Fairfax chuckles. “Yes, I thought you’d be pleased. I imagine you’ve been waiting rather impatiently for my call. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I can finalize my report, if you don’t mind waiting a touch longer?”
“No, no, of course not.” Cleo meets my eyes. Her gaze shines like a winter sky, violet and blue layered in brilliant ribbons of hope. A look that shouldn’t punch me in the chest. “Please, take your time! I appreciate you letting me know.”
“Certainly, Miss Blackthorn, it’s the least you deserve. Take care.”
The call ends, and Cleo stares at me numbly.
Her little hands are shaking.
I try to force my brain to work, to find something comforting to say when she’s this overwhelmed.
Then her eyes ignite. They find mine.
She launches herself at me over the sofa.
For a brief second, her impact winds me.
I’m not ready to have her in my arms. She pushes me back into the cushions, her knees pressed against my hips.
“It’s realll! Holden, we’re sitting on a fortune.” She laughs loudly. Her breath feels warm against my face, her lips closing in until—
Fuck.
For a second, I freeze, melting into the primal, plush warmth of this little firecracker kissing me.
Me, the last man she should be kissing.
Instinct kicks in, this primal, caveman shit I can’t control.
I kiss her back with the force of a rampaging army.
I kiss her deeply, madly, spearing my tongue after hers, sinking my teeth into her lip, stealing her breath, her moan, her all.
Delirium hits.
Her lips are still curled against mine, quivering and impulsive and unsure. Her eyes are closed.
It’s like everything moves in slow motion.
A blizzard of sins. Epic fuckups happening at once, but she feels too good to stop.
This isn’t like the one-person kiss this morning, the way I sampled her then—more of a quick, secret peck. A flutter of lust.
This is her, pressed against me, fully aware of what’s happening, refusing to turn back.
Her fingers reach up and tangle in my shirt, pulling me closer.
Mayday.
Growling, I slide my hand through her hair, tilt her head, and give in to the madness.
Hunger takes control.
Some withered, rational part of me knows this is a disaster.
The rest just wants to get intoxicated on the girl I can’t have but will.
Her apple blossom scent.
Her softness.
Her whimper—fucking God, the sounds coming out of her mouth.
My free hand moves to the back of her top, fumbling, fighting to regain control.
Of course, it’s too late.
Self-control left the room the moment she threw herself at me.
The moment I woke up with her curled up against me, her breasts against my chest, her thigh teasing my cock to hell and back.
Now, destiny takes over.
Now, I give in and face the inevitable.
I kiss Cleo Blackthorn back like a man possessed.
A man who’s been starved for a woman for an entire decade without ever stopping to realize it.
Ludicrously good. My mind, broken.
Possibly permanently.
One kiss so outrageously delicious, I’ll never be sane or grounded again.
11
GOOD AS GOLD (CLEO)
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
I don’t know if I’m the one who snaps back from my out-of-body experience first or if it’s him.
Either way, we wrench ourselves away like we’ve just grabbed an electric fence, staring and shocked and bewildered.
…what have I done?
His eyes are dark and feral. Scary.
His dark hair is—oh, did I do that too?
I must’ve run my hands through it and messed it up. It’s usually so neat, short and combed, but right now it looks just as wild as the rest of him. Right on the verge of totally destroying me.
Worst of all, I can’t blame him for this when I know who kissed who first.
Holy hell, shoot me.
I raise a trembling hand to my mouth and touch my lips. They’re still tingling from the explosive force of that kiss.
Every part of me hums with desire like I’m running on Holden Verity’s current. My blood, a live wire, charged with confusion and need.
Holden’s gaze follows my fingers to my red, throbbing mouth before he looks away quickly.
My eyes flick down.
There’s a throw pillow over his lap.
Holy shit.
How close were we, really?
I’m afraid I already know the answer.
This feels like a drunken nightmare. It can’t be real.
Except there was no alcohol involved, just a natural high.
Nothing but the surreal news that the egg is authentic and even that feels ice-cold compared to the glaring truth.
I kissed Holden fucking Verity.
I kissed him for more than a minute. Now I need a flipping shower. An ice bath. Maybe twelve hours in a dark closet praying so I can wipe away my sins like mud.
Honestly, I’d settle for a nice, deep hole in the ground.
He still doesn’t look at me. Why would he?
His hand lingers on his jaw, rubbing like he wants to scrub away the feel of my hands on him.