Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“You’ll remember.” I take a sip. The lime and salt are tangy on my tongue, and the tequila has a bite that I like. Much better than the one in Jamaica. “This is delicious. What kind of margarita mix did you use?”
She scoffs. “Margarita mix? That stuff’s awful. I make my own simple syrup, and I use the juice from fresh-squeezed limes. I use reposado tequila, and I also use Cointreau instead of a cheap triple sec. If I’m really feeling excited I use Grand Marnier, but I don’t have any.”
“I can honestly say this is the best margarita I have ever tasted.”
“I imagine it’s one of the only margaritas you ever tasted.”
“Now that’s not true. When I was young, I preferred sweeter drinks over straight bourbon.” I stop abruptly.
Not a great time to think about when I was young. Tonight can’t be about anything except Tessa and me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. But I don’t want to think about my younger days right now.”
In fact…
What I want is to kiss her again.
I take another sip of the margarita, and then I set it down on her small counter before taking hers out of her hand and setting it beside my own.
I cup both her cheeks. “God, your skin is like silk.”
She moves her hands upward, covering mine with her own.
Then she parts her lips.
I wait.
I wait for her to say something.
But she doesn’t.
So I kiss her.
I kiss her, and the sweetness of her lips infuses me, takes me to a place where everything is okay.
She doesn’t resist, not at all.
So I deepen the kiss.
I touch my tongue to hers, swirl it around, tasting every part of her mouth.
She tastes of lime and sugar and tequila and salt.
But she also tastes like Tessa. A sweetness that doesn’t come from the margarita.
A sweetness that’s all her own.
She moves her hands from mine and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me close to her.
I’m already hard, and our bodies are touching, so she can feel my arousal.
But it doesn’t seem to bother her.
We kiss, my heartbeat becoming rapid, my need transforming to pure yearning.
All that energy—the tension that has been inside me since my meeting with Dirk—I let it go in this kiss.
I move my hands from her face, grip her shoulders, slide one hand into her beautiful hair, and pull the band out of her ponytail, letting her hair flow around her shoulders.
Then I grasp a handful of it, yanking her head back as I break the kiss, trailing my lips over her silky neck, kissing her, moving my lips to her ear, and tugging on her lobe.
“Tessa…” I growl into her ear.
“Ben…” she replies on a soft sigh.
“I…”
“I know,” she says. “Me too.”
I’m not sure she knows what I mean. What I mean is that I need her. I want her. I ache for her right now.
I want to fuck her into next Tuesday. My cock is hard as granite and yearns to be set free.
All this time I tried to go slow, not kissing her until the time was right—yesterday in the rain.
God, it was so right.
And now I want it all. To sink into her lush body and lose myself.
But no.
She cooked me an amazing dinner.
I can’t… I can’t…
“It’s okay,” she says. “Please. I want to.”
I turn her around so she’s facing her counter, my bulge hitting her lower back.
“Be sure, Tessa,” I whisper against her neck. “Be sure, because if we start this, I’m not going to want to stop.”
“I’m—”
The kitchen timer clangs.
“Crap,” she says.
“What is that?”
“The enchiladas. They’re done.”
I move away from her, chuckling. “Saved by the bell, so they say.”
She turns around, swallows, and meets my gaze. “I don’t think I wanted to be saved that time, Ben.”
I lean against her kitchen counter. “It’s not a bad thing. It will give us both a chance to cool off. You went to the trouble to make dinner, and I plan to enjoy it.”
She smiles. It’s a weak smile, but a genuine smile. Different from the other weak smiles I’ve seen on her beautiful face lately.
She grabs a couple of potholders and pulls two pans out of the oven.
“Cheese enchiladas and refried beans,” she says. “They’ll need a few minutes to cool.”
I inhale the spicy and robust aroma. “Smells delicious.”
She picks up her margarita and takes a sip. “I hope so. I’ve never made these without my mom’s help. Like I said, I’m not really a cook, other than a killer guac. But I felt like making my mom’s recipes today.”
I squeeze her arm. “Probably because you’re missing your dad.”
She nods. “He loved my mom’s Mexican food. He said he could eat it every day.”
I pick up my margarita and drain it.
“You want another?”
“No.”
She frowns.
I hold up a hand. “No, it’s not that I didn’t like it. I just don’t want to have more than one drink tonight. I want to have all my faculties about me, because when I kiss you again, Tessa, I want to be fully aware of everything I’m doing. I don’t want a buzz to keep me from enjoying our time together.”