Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Her jaw fell open. “You mean people are talking about me?”
“Of course they are.” Amused, I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m surprised the Harbor Gazette hasn’t called you for an interview yet.”
“Oh no!” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “That is so embarrassing.”
“Why? You put an asshole in his place. He can’t just go around treating people like shit and expect no one to mind.”
“I know, but . . .” Her cheeks grew even more pink. “I just don’t want that to be people’s first impression of me. I’m a friendly person. I have nice manners. I’m a good girl.”
“Are you?” The question slipped out.
Her hand slowly fell to her lap.
I don’t know what made me do what I did next—maybe it was all the talk about her ex that got me worked up. Maybe it was the way she was blushing.
Hell, maybe it was the crop top.
I pushed off the workbench in no hurry, crossing the three feet of space between us until I stood in front of where she sat on the edge of the table. She opened her knees, and I took a step closer. Her thighs now straddled mine. I touched her lips with my thumb, tugging the lower one down slightly. I felt the barest caress of her tongue as her eyes held mine captive.
Her skirt had a slit that exposed one knee, and I took my hand from her mouth and placed it on the top of her thigh. Slowly, I slid it up her leg until my thumb and fingers bracketed her hip. I squeezed gently.
She inhaled sharply.
With my other hand, I touched one of those curls that fell around her face. It felt like silk between my callused fingers. She turned her cheek into my palm and rubbed the heel of my hand with her chin. I closed my eyes, my entire body tense with restraint.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“It’s not,” I said between my teeth.
And when I still couldn’t bring myself to move, she kissed my palm, then the inside of my wrist, then my jaw. When I opened my eyes, I saw her lean back on her elbows, her top riding up to expose a strip of skin on her belly.
Unable to resist, I lowered my mouth to her abdomen. Her muscles trembled. Slowly, I kissed a path across the ribbon of soft, warm skin. Then I rested my forehead on her stomach, breathing in her scent, wanting her, aching to untie the top, put a hand up her skirt, claim her mouth with mine. My desire for her had the strength of a nuclear bomb.
“Daddy?” I bolted upright and looked at the open garage door, expecting to see Owen standing there with a confused look on his face. But no one was there.
“It’s the monitor.” Veronica was still breathing hard, her chest rising and falling quickly.
Heart pounding, I hurried out of the garage into the rain.
I was surprised it didn’t sizzle on my skin.
TWELVE
veronica
Alone in the garage, splayed on his table like a centerpiece, I felt the weight of embarrassment settle over me like a wet blanket.
But I shouldn’t be embarrassed. The guy came at me. Again.
He asked the flirty question, he came and stood between my legs, he put his hands on me first. It was obvious he wanted me like I wanted him. We were just having fun. So what was his problem?
I propped myself up on my hands and took a minute to catch my breath and wrangle my thoughts.
Was it the kids? Was it the boss/employee thing? Was he still worried about taking advantage of me in a vulnerable state? He was definitely a guy with a strong moral code—he’d flat out said he thought a person’s actions were more important than their feelings. If he believed a thing was wrong, he wouldn’t do it.
As my pulse decelerated, I had to admit there were plenty of reasons to put the brakes on before we did something we might regret.
You need this job, I reminded myself, pushing off the table and picking up my laundry basket. So maybe it’s good that one of you isn’t thinking with your hormones right now. The last thing you need is to mess this up.
As I hurried up the stairs in the drizzle, I grew even more thankful that nothing had happened. Okay, maybe not one hundred percent thankful, I admitted, thinking about his lips on my stomach, his hand on my thigh, that bulge in his jeans. But at least ninety percent. Possibly eighty-five. Eighty if I was being super honest.
Kicking the door shut with my foot, I headed into the bedroom area and set the laundry basket down. But rather than put it away, I went over to the window and looked out at the house. The windows in Austin’s bedroom were dark, and I couldn’t tell if the shade was up or down. The kids’ bathroom light appeared to be on, although the shade was lowered.