Series: The Laws of Opposite Attract Series by Vi Keeland
Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Alex’s eyes glistened as she looked down at her phone. “Shit. I have to go.”
“I’ll call you a car.” I pulled up the app and arranged for her ride.
Alex placed the pastries in her bag to take back for Wells.
As we stood on the sidewalk, quietly staring at each other, I could see the hurt in her eyes. But there was also something else: desire—even if she’d never allow herself to act on it.
I don’t know what came over me, but I suddenly voiced what I was thinking. “Do you ever dream about what might’ve happened if Caitlin hadn’t shown up that day? Because I dream about fucking you every damn night, Alex,” I rasped. “I probably always will.”
She swallowed.
I inched closer. “I understand why you need to hold back. But I have nothing holding me back right now.” I leaned in, taking her lips with mine before backing her against the wall of a building.
Alex panted over my mouth as she received my kiss.
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” I murmured.
Instead of saying anything, her tense body loosened as she succumbed, a moan escaping her. Alex raked her fingers through my hair as she pulled me close. I cradled her face as my tongue dove deeper into her mouth, tasting her coffee. The world faded around us. I couldn’t have cared less about the droves of people passing by and getting a load of this spectacle. My cock grew hard as a rock as I pressed my body against hers.
She was the first to pull back.
We were both out of breath as I rubbed my thumb along her swollen bottom lip and looked into her glassy eyes. “I don’t care if I go to hell for that. It was damn well worth it.”
CHAPTER 16
Alex
“You’re scaring away the customers and making me depressed.”
I looked up from the front desk and frowned at Wells. “Thanks. And I put in extra effort today.”
I really had. This morning I’d gotten up early, forced a healthy breakfast into my belly, and done my hair and makeup like I was going out. I thought it might help my gloomy mood if I looked better. But apparently a little paint and hot rollers couldn’t stop what was on the inside from spilling out.
“Oh honey, this is why I prefer one-night stands. Love sucks.” He winked. “But a good one-night stand swallows.”
I attempted a smile, but failed.
“Jeez, Louise. It’s worse than I thought when I can’t even make you smile with a good blowjob joke.”
“I’m sorry. Even I’m confused by how hard I’m taking what happened. But I can’t seem to shake this gray feeling.”
Wells walked around the desk, pulled open the drawer where I kept my purse, and lifted it onto his shoulder. “Let’s go, Kitten. I’m taking you for therapy.”
“You made me an appointment with Dr. Mills?” I’d met with a psychologist a few times after Richard died. But I hadn’t seen him since.
Wells extended a hand and yanked me to my feet. “Retail therapy, sweetheart. I asked Hallie to stay and close up tonight.”
I wasn’t much in the mood for shopping—wasn’t in the mood for anything, really—but I knew better than to argue with Wells when it came to two things: shopping and taking care of me. So I nodded. “Thanks.”
Our first stop was Nordstrom. We perused the expensive shoes in the ladies’ department. I picked up a pair of sparkly silver Jimmy Choos. “These would look really cute with that black dress Caitlin has with the silver belt, wouldn’t they?”
Wells plucked them from my hand and steered me to a pair of ridiculously high leopard-print Louboutins. “Now these are hot. You need fuck-me shoes. They pair great with a Brazilian, preferably the kind with a landing strip. Nothing else.”
I smiled. “I don’t know if they have them in your size.”
Wells linked his arm with mine and started us walking. “Is down there still groomed to the nines?”
“Do you really need to know the current status of my pubic hair?”
“I do. Just humor me and answer.”
I sighed. “I have a Brazilian right now.”
“When did you get waxed?”
“I don’t know. The week before my birthday, I think?”
“So that’s what? Three weeks now?”
I shrugged. “I guess…”
“When was the last time you got waxed before that?”
“Is this conversation really necessary?”
“It is. Answer the question. I promise not to judge. When I went off that ridiculous six-month man cleanse I did a few years back, I had to use a sickle to cut down the bush before I jumped back into the dating pool.”
I frowned, but answered truthfully. “I hadn’t gotten waxed in a few years, not since Richard died. I’d shaved, but not gotten a Brazilian.”
“That’s what I thought. When you first get back into waxing, the hair grows in fast, so you must be starting to get stubbly.”