Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I know it’s going to happen.
He knows it’s going to happen.
The only unanswered question is who’s going to cave first.
I think it’s me because I lean in closer, but he leans toward me simultaneously, and we meet in the middle.
The kiss is unhurried.
His hand skates along my neck. I grip a fistful of his hoodie while my mouth opens wide for his tongue to tease mine. It’s a heady mix of forbidden desire and utter weakness.
“No one’s getting evicted,” I murmur when he breaks the kiss to suck the sensitive skin below my ear.
“No one,” he whispers, gently tugging my hair so I’ll give him more access to my neck.
I have a painful need to rub up against him. I’d give anything to feel any part of his body brush along my breast or slide between my legs. My breaths fall from my lips in tiny puffs. I’m panting.
Showing zero control, I start to crawl over the console.
“Jaymes,” he mumbles, grabbing my hips to stop me.
“I’ll move out,” I say, without an ounce of blood circulating to my brain.
He chuckles. “You don’t mean that.”
I win. Wedging myself between him and the steering wheel, I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him. Whatever’s been going on between us has been the slowest torture of my life.
I break the kiss and rest my forehead on his. “You can’t go to Miami with me.”
“Why?” His hand slides up my side under my jacket, stopping at my breast. His thumb brushes over my shirt, teasing my nipple.
“Fuck you, Fitz.” I breathe heavily, rocking my pelvis, longing to feel him everywhere. “You know why.”
“You don’t trust me?” His other hand does the same thing, making my breath hitch. He’s hard between my legs, thumbs slowly circling my nipples.
I’m ready to snap.
“I . . .” Again, I rock my hips.
And again.
And again.
“I hate you,” I whisper over his lips.
He kisses me.
I moan. Not groan. It’s embarrassing but unavoidable, like the way I grind against him. Every cell in my body feels heavy and hyperresponsive to his touch. Though I’m not going to let him win.
Why would my orgasm be a win for him? I can’t explain it, but that’s what it would be.
Fitz grins against my lips. “Jaymes, are you about to—”
“No.” I grab his hands, removing them from my breasts while my heart thrashes around in my chest. I’m a hundred degrees and out of breath.
“Are you sure?” His lips brush my ear, hands gripping my hips while he shifts a fraction.
“St-stop.”
He palms my ass.
I should have worn jeans. These leggings are useless. His erection might be buried under denim and cotton briefs, but I still feel it, and that’s all it takes.
I bite my lip to suppress my moan or any other sound while remaining as still as possible. Does he know I’m holding my breath to hide the blinding orgasm ripping through my body? It’s all I can do to keep from jerking my hips and mumbling a low “Oh god . . .”
This is a first. Never did I imagine the day would come when I’d feel the need to hide an orgasm. Fake one? Sure. But not hide it.
A fraction at a time, I release my breath. Nothing happened. Everything’s normal.
“We”—I clear my throat—“better get home.”
I lift my head from his shoulder and smile.
Fitz’s gaze sweeps across my face, his expression nothing short of wonder. He swipes a finger along my forehead. My sweaty forehead.
“It’s hot in here. You have the heat pretty high,” I say with a nervous laugh.
“Do you need a cigarette?” A slow grin takes up residence on his smug face.
“You wish.” I climb off his lap and plop into the passenger seat.
He laughs. It’s great that one of us finds this amusing. He responds to everything I say with a chuckle.
“I’ll get a hotel room. I assume you’ll stay with your friend. Problem solved.” He shifts his truck into drive.
I can think of a hundred places and ways we can have sex that don’t involve sharing a bed or even the same hotel room. He extinguishes wildfires. How can he not see the danger in this situation?
“Yup. Problem solved,” I mumble, staring out the window, feeling sweat between my cleavage and the warm, wet aftermath between my legs from dry humping Calvin Fitzgerald in the bowling alley parking lot.
Chapter Fifteen
I have no knowledge of TSA regulations. So I get my oversize shampoo and scissors confiscated, but only after I make the walk of shame to empty my water bottle, which disrupts the flow of the line and garners a few scowls.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I grumble while we mosey toward our gate, Fitz with his bag slung over his shoulder and me pulling my red suitcase behind me.
“Heads-up? How was I supposed to know you knew nothing about TSA? And if you wanted my help, you should have asked me to inspect the contents of your bag before we left home.”