Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He glances down at me, eyes roaming down the center of my chest. “Are you wearing one of those nipple bras?”
“What? No!” I laugh, batting at him. “Why would you say that?”
“’Cause I can totally see your nips through your shirt.”
I look down. Sure enough, not only are my areolas on full display because of the cheap, threadbare bra I’m wearing, but my nipples are determined to escape.
“Oh shit.” I cross my arms. “I feel like I’ve entered a wet T-shirt contest I have no business entering.”
Dex reaches forward, his big hands unfolding my arms and holding them out so he can look at me. “What the hell are you talking about? Look at these boobs. They’re amazing.”
I feel myself blushing despite the fact that I’m cold.
“Aw, gosh. I’m flattered you th-think so,” I stutter. It’s been ages since a grown man has blatantly gawked at my tits, T-shirt impeding his view or not.
“You’re the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, all soaked to the skin and dripping wet.”
I’ll never forget the way he said and dripping wet . . .
Dumbly, I nod.
Let him walk me backward until my ass bumps the cabinets.
His hands on my hips—I have no protest, only curiosity. What’s he going to do with me once he has me where he wants me?
Chapter 13
Dex
I have her where I want her.
The best part is, she’s already dripping wet.
Not for me, but still.
Wet is wet.
I put my mouth on the side of her neck, inhaling that perfume I like so much, its musky scent mingling with her damp skin, and when I put my lips there, she tilts her neck.
Margot is shorter than I am—who isn’t?
I have to bend a bit at the knees to accommodate her, or better yet, why don’t I lift her onto the counter to make things easier?
Damn good idea, Dex.
I do what I’ve been wanting to do since she sassed me in the restaurant—I kiss her on her pouty mouth, savoring the surprise and the hands that are now sliding up my spine.
Margot tastes delicious.
She doesn’t hold back either. No hesitation, no shy bone.
I move so I’m standing between her legs, pressing against her and the cabinet front, dick straining to say hello to her. He’s eager to play—as usual.
Ignoring the mess that is being made, we kiss—and damned if I don’t begin exploring the wet T-shirt clinging so seductively to Margot’s body, her boobs now in my palms.
Yes, both of them.
It’s electric, a kiss that makes me forget the chaos around us and the giant mess I made because I was trying to look cool.
Margot doesn’t seem to give a shit, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, her fingers tangling in my mussed-up hair, her soft lips warm. It’s a contrast to the cold water dripping from my hair. Hers. The sink.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
It feels like we’re in our own bubble, untouchable and invincible, lost in each other, and I swear, I could eat her up.
I could spread her legs, kneel in front of her, and—
The sudden sound of a door opening jolts us back to reality.
We break apart, breathless, and turn to see Wyatt standing in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen in place, eyes wide and her mouth slightly open in shock.
“Mom? What the . . . ?” Her eyes are everywhere, taking in the scene.
The floor. Her mom and me.
The floor.
The ceiling.
“What on earth is going on here?” Wyatt’s voice is a mix of surprise and amusement, though there’s an undeniable edge of her disapproval there too. “Mother!”
Yikes. Not the preteen disapproval . . .
Margot gives me a little shove so she can hop down off the counter, her face turning a deep shade of red. She pulls at her T-shirt so it’s not clinging to her stomach, or her boobs.
Damn shame.
“Wyatt!” Her voice is high pitched in the way that screams GUILTY. “Hey, sweetie! What, um—are you doing home?”
She’s still pulling at her top so it doesn’t stick to her frame.
Wyatt has her eyes locked on my face, the unflinching little shit.
“I forgot my face stuff and my blanket, so Grandma and I decided it would be easier if I slept here tonight.” Her face is stone-cold sober. A veritable mask of judgment. “What were the two of you doing?”
“Kid, I think it’s obvious what we were doing,” I’m tempted to say, though it’s not the right time, and I don’t want to risk getting nudged in the gut.
“I had a little . . . problem with the faucet, and um, Dex came over to fix it. You remember Dex, don’t you? From dinner?”
Wyatt’s gaze shifts between us, taking in our soaked clothes and the puddles spread across the kitchen floor. “Yeah, I can see you had a problem with the faucet.” Her hands are on her hips now. “Looks like you had more than just an accident with the faucet.”