Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
It’s so pathetic that I can’t help but hate myself. The worst thing is, I don’t have it in me to stand and put a distance between us either.
Where the hell is the strong-headed girl my dad raised? Because Oliver is a walking daydream, I’m reduced to nothing more than a girl with needs.
What makes it doubly hard is how freaking hot Oliver is. He’s tall and broad, and I still remember how wide his shoulders looked when he was in his three-piece suit. His dark brown hair is tapered on the sides, but he sports a boxed beard that unfairly suits him.
His eyes remind me of the sky on a warm, sunny day. I wonder if they change color depending on his mood.
Oh God.
It’s too late to pretend I’m not checking him out, so I tentatively reach for the small scar above his lips. “What happened to that?”
He sucks in a sharp breath when my finger brushes his skin, so I jerk my arm back. I’m way out of line. “A fight back in college.”
“Hmm. I didn’t know rich kids get scars.” I spot another on his brow. “Oh, there’s another one here” —my finger traces another along his jaw— “and here. That’s a lot of scars, Mr. Abbot.”
“I know. I was a handful when I was younger.”
It’s just then that I notice a bump on his nose, too. “Damn. Did they hurt you?”
Oliver chuckles, and it’s a sound I can get used to, a sound that makes my core clench. “You should have seen the other guys.”
How did I not notice his deep voice? How it caresses my skin? How it makes me feel things I shouldn’t feel for someone with ulterior motives? Not even ulterior because I know what he wants.
Despite all that, my body has other ideas. Before my brain registers what’s happening, my finger runs across his eyebrow, feeling the scar tissue in the middle of the arch. When I’m close enough to feel his breath on my face, my own breathing hitches.
We’re both almost panting, and when my hand slides down his hard, broad chest, his heart slams against my palm.
The need for him is almost painful and unbearable.
“Olivia…” he growls.
I swallow hard. “Oli.”
“Hmm?”
“My friends call me Oli.”
“Are we friends now?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” He lowers his mouth until his lips ghost over mine.
“On whether you’re about to kiss me or not.”
“Oli…” The instant my name leaves his lips, he pulls me to him and kisses me with an urgency, intensity, and ferocity that takes my breath away. It’s a kiss I will remember for the rest of my life. A kiss that empties my mind, makes my limbs tingle with excitement and causes my heart to do somersaults.
Maybe another woman has possessed me because I don’t just kiss him back, I clutch his face and plunge my tongue into his mouth until our tongues tangle. I suck his tongue, he sucks mine, and by the time we pull apart, we’re both trying to catch our breaths.
Oh my God.
I didn’t just do that. I didn’t just give in after a day of knowing this guy. Not just any guy either.
Except…
Given a chance to go back five minutes ago, I’d still do it. Over and over and over again.
“You know, Oli, I know what you’re trying to do.”
My brain has turned to sludge or the kiss has fried all the important bits because I stare at him like an idiot. “What do you mean?”
Oliver chuckles again before he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, making me automatically rub my thighs together. “When I asked you for a tour, I didn’t mean to bring me to the island’s best spots. I prefer you to take me to your favorite ones.”
I can never keep secrets from my mom. She is my best friend, so telling her what happened earlier is at the tip of my tongue. It has been since I came home an hour ago.
The scent of garlic and onion wafts through the air as I let them sizzle on the pan before I lower the heat. Glancing over at Mom, who’s seated near the window with her easel in front of her, I try to think of different ways to break the ‘news’ to her. Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but she deserves to know. I went with Oliver intending to convince him to leave us alone, and I ended up on his lap and kissing him like my life depended on it.
Ugh. Remembering that kiss has my body going haywire again and warmth spreading to my cheeks. Everything’s happening too fast.
Mom’s partly gray hair is tied in a loose bun, and she hovers the paintbrush on the canvas before she begins brushing with practiced ease.
“We kissed,” I blurt out and wince, fully prepared for an hour-long lecture.