Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
This one simple kiss was better than a whole night of sex with someone else. It was—
Dylan broke off the kiss, slapping my chest away lightly. “Okay, horndog. That’s enough practice.”
I grudgingly disconnected my lips from hers, sulking—honest to God fucking sulking—down at her.
“You always bust my ass about having sex, but you won’t even let me kiss you properly?” I gently brought her up and eased her body against the wall. Her nipples dug into the fabric of her dress like two bullets. Jesus. She wasn’t wearing a bra. The little sasshole defied gravity too.
“That’s different. Sex would be a mutually beneficial, tit-for-tat arrangement.” She pretended to examine her nails in boredom.
There will be tits, all right.
The mere thought of it made my dick rigid and my balls heavy. I was very close to throwing caution—and a twenty-two-year friendship—to the wind and going for it. I wanted her. Bad.
“If I fuck you, will you let me kiss you again?” I blurted out.
“You’re not doing me a favor.” She snorted out a laugh. “And we can kiss again in two minutes when he arrives. Which reminds me, we need to get inside if we want t—”
“Are you kidding me? Two minutes is a lifetime. Let me kiss you again.” I sounded like I was asking her for a first aid kit to sew my limbs back together. That was the level of desperation we were dealing with.
Pathetic, Coltridge. All you needed was one hit to get hooked.
She smiled incredulously, searching my face. “Oh my God. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I’m serious,” I confirmed sullenly. “I want to make sure that first time was a fluke. No way is the next time going to be as good.”
“What will you give me in return?” A gleam of mischief flickered in those dark eyes.
“Whatever you want,” I croaked. “More money. Unlimited babysitting gigs.” Pause. “You can never have too many kidneys.”
She screwed her mouth sideways, scrunching her nose. “Mine work fine.”
“How about I give you my penthouse for the length of the arrangement?”
Talk about pussy-whipped. Dylan laughed harder at this, and I didn’t know when this whole thing had morphed from funny and light to decadent and tragic, but we were straddling that line like a stripper eager for a fat tip.
“No, thanks. But I would love it if you could take Grav to a Mommy and Me class once a week.”
“Done.” Small price to pay. “Can I kiss you again?”
“What’s with you?” She seemed amused. “I mean, sure. Go for it.”
I dove down again, desperate for that same rush and heat. For the way every cell in my body buzzed with adrenaline and greed.
Tragically, this time was even better. I threw out the handful of fucks I still gave about Dylan being Row’s baby sister. Coaxing her lips open with the tip of my tongue, I met her velvety tongue with mine.
The kiss was playful at first, our tongues dancing together in a rhythm, thrust for thrust. Her hands slid beneath my shirt, nails raking up my torso, making my body break into uncontrollable goose bumps. I licked and kissed and bit the corner of her mouth, making up for…what, all the years I’d missed? All that time she was tucked away in bumfuck Maine, hidden like something precious and forbidden? I was grabbing her by the hips, pressing her core against my hard-on, wondering if we were going to get arrested for dry humping in public—and half hoping we would, since that’d mean more alone time with her—when a Southern drawl pierced through my skull like an arrow.
“Dadgum it, Coltridge, you’re mauling the poor lil miss like a fox out for cattle!”
Dylan’s lips stretched into a grin against mine. “I think your plan is working, family guy,” she whispered into my lips.
It took all my self-control and a few other pedestrians’ willpower to right her against the wall and smooth out my fake fiancée’s dress. I turned to flash Bruce my cocksure smirk. He was striding his way over from a black Escalade. Luckily, my casual shirt was on the longer side, so it hid my enthusiasm for my newfound hobby of eating Dylan’s face.
“Marshall.” I nodded.
“Tomcat.” He held a thick envelope, which he pointed at me with a wink. Each time I met him, he looked progressively more Southern, but today took the cake, with his cowboy hat wide enough to shelter an entire hockey team.
“Fine day, ain’t it, Mr. Marshall?” Dylan’s recovery was flawless. She met him halfway and thrust her hand in his direction for a handshake.
He grabbed it and tugged her into a hug, smacking a noisy pucker on each of her cheeks.
“Thanks a lot for the preschool tour. Looks like a great place.”
“Sure is, Lil Miss. And would you look at that stone?” He pressed a rough finger pad to the diamond on her finger when their hands touched and turned her wrist to look at it with a nod of approval. “I say, Coltridge, you’re not as hopeless as I thought you were.”