Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 183663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 918(@200wpm)___ 735(@250wpm)___ 612(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 918(@200wpm)___ 735(@250wpm)___ 612(@300wpm)
It’s time to up the ante, I think.
“The last tour of the castle began more than an hour ago. We could always revisit the scene of Friday evening’s nakedness if you need a reminder.”
With a sound that’s more a frustrated grumble than anything else, she wheels away abruptly and begins stomping up the stairs.
What else can I do but follow her?
HOLLY
“Where do you think you’re going?” I sound very schoolmarm of the ye olde variety as I turn at the sound of boots on the stairs behind me.
“Where does it look like I’m going?” Alexander’s reply might be cool, but the expression he wears is anything but, and though his ascent is sedate, his pace seems a little threatening. Like a prowling cat.
Or maybe I’m projecting, my brain fuzzy from seeing him in those jodhpurs—jodhpurs that make me long for some very strange things. Like a dress of peacock silk, the kind that swishes dramatically around my ankles. And a riding crop, comes my next unbidden thought. Damn Harlequin and Nana’s racy reading tastes, and damn Alexander for looking like something from the cover of a bodice ripper.
I don’t need a corseted gown because that would just mean it would be harder to get out of it . . .
Exactly! Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do—what I’m not going to do, I mean. There will be no nakedness happening this afternoon!
“What’s that in your hand?” asks the prowling jungle beast.
I open my palm to find the melting remains of a piece of Scottish tablet, which is kind of like fudge, only crumblier and sweeter. This delicious morsel is flavoured with a nip of whisky and chopped nuts, and I was absolutely enjoying the heck out of it until I was so rudely interrupted.
I was wearing my ear pods. Urgh! What an idiot I am. I would’ve been too, if I hadn’t been so engrossed in my treat. The treat I’m currently licking off my hand.
“What are you eating?”
“Mind your own.”
“Holland.” He makes my name sound like a reprimand. A sexy reprimand. “You can’t run away from me.”
Something inside me seems to say wanna bet? Almost unbidden, my feet seem to pick up the pace as a quicksilver thrill rolls down my spine. His low chuckle layers sounds from behind me, the cadence of his own footsteps altering.
Ohmygosh, he’s chasing me.
Or maybe he’s just going the same way, and I’m an idiot. But fight or flight instincts aren’t usually engaged because you don’t want to share a sweet treat.
How about a kiss?
Breath halts in my chest, a sense of exhilaration shimmering over me as his footsteps seem to time themselves with the thrumming pulse between my legs. This is a long staircase, but I don’t think I get to evade him for any other reason than he wants me to, but still, I hurry, and still my heart beats frantically. As I reach the first landing, my excitement reaches fever pitch—I’ve made it! Until . . .
His hands find my hips.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispers seductively as his arm feeds around me, pulling my body back to meet his like a cat toying with its next meal.
“I-I’m going to my room,” I whisper, eventually loosening my tongue. My mind is noisy, full of chidings and warnings, but they melt away like ice cream on hot pavement as the fingers of his other hand circle my wrist.
Do I always want to be caught by him?
I offer no resistance and watch almost out of myself as he lifts my hand. His tongue flicking over my sticky palm, and the sensation resonates between my legs.
“Tablet,” he asserts. The second time his tongue touches my flesh, it’s with the full flat of his tongue. I roll my lips together, swallowing the sound I want to make. The sound I won’t give in to. “You’ve been to the kitchen.”
My face heats just at the name of the place, my brain filled with flashes of distorted images. Him. Me.
“Yes.” Such a small word yet so sultry. Like an invitation. A temptation. Taste me, Alexander. Slide your tongue between my legs again.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I—” Because it would’ve been stupid of me. Because I can’t afford to fool myself.
“Holland.” His voice breaks over my name as he turns me in his arms. My tote full of kitchen booty hits the floor with a quiet thump, my sticky hand finding its way into his hair. His tongue tastes sweet as he slides his mouth against mine, his hands anchoring my body against his, his big hands firm. Soothing. Both his touch and taste are so reassuring that I tighten my hand, almost curling into him. Our kiss becomes deeper and wetter, and I moan into his mouth. Everything becomes frantic for a moment, teeth and tongues clashing, fingers gripping and fighting to get closer as he backs me up against the wall.