Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He’s seen your vulnerable side, my internal voice whispers. And he’s still here.
Most men run at the first sign of tears in a woman they hardly know, but not Thomas.
"Can I ask you a question?" I slow my feet and look up into his dark eyes, biting on my lip because I’m not sure how it’s going to be received.
"You can ask me anything," he says.
"Why Iris?"
"The lyrics," he says, without hesitation. "They’ve always felt like they were about me."
"That’s funny," I say, shaking my head. "They’ve always felt like they were about me too."
He smiles softly and I notice for the first time that he has one adorable dimple that tugs his right cheek. A dimple I get a sudden urge to kiss. Before I think, I’m standing on my tiptoes and my lips make contact with Thomas’s cheek.
To his credit, he doesn’t flinch. When I drop down so my heels are on the floor again, our eyes meet. Thomas folds in his lips and releases them, and everything about him seems to become intensified. I’m mesmerized by the size of him, by the gentleness of his clever hands and the way he moves like we’re both surrounded by water.
The music continues to play, seeping through my skin and into my bones. In this man’s arms, all the pressure that, at the very least, nips at my heels and sometimes threatens to swallow me whole seems far away. Like Mitchell, Jared, and Joshua, Thomas has just what I need to keep me in the moment.
But does he want to be in the moment with me?
We’re dancing because he listed it as an option, ignoring the one that’s my default.
Sex, my safe and happy place.
The space where my body takes over and my mind and heart can be put aside.
Will he want to do that with me? This tender man with beauty in his fingertips and soul in his voice.
"Dawn," he murmurs, and I sense from his tone that he wants more but doesn’t know if he should.
Tears have a tendency to scare men away. They’re not good with emotions at the best of times, especially with sadness.
"Thomas," I reply softly, then, before he has a chance to back away, I return to my tiptoes and press my lips to the center of his.
He doesn’t kiss me back straight away. It’s like there’s a war going on inside him. After a couple of seconds, just before I’m going to pull away, his lips move, and I know I’ve got him.
Our first kiss is as sweet at honey, as tentative as a baby’s first steps. My hands ache to stroke all the planes of his muscular body, but I hold back because I don’t want to take him out of the moment or make him think too many steps ahead.
I let Thomas lead, and when his hands drift down my body, his touch is as reverent as when he cradles his guitar. I melt against him, wanting more, faster, harder, but understanding that Thomas isn’t that man. He’s exploratory and gentle, sensitive, and protective. He wants to read my emotions and tune me to his melody.
Beneath my hand, his heart beats a staccato rhythm, and his tongue slides over mine, deep and then deeper, until my back is arched and I’m gripping the front of his shirt for balance. The groan he makes in his throat is long and deep, and between my legs, my pussy squeezes in response.
His hands roam my hips and ass, squeezing gently. Then, out of nowhere, he lifts me so my legs are wrapped around his waist. I gasp and he kisses my neck, taking three steps until my back is at the wall and his hips have pinned me in place.
"You’re so fucking sexy," he murmurs against my neck.
"Thomas," I groan, as his fingers trail the straps at my shoulders, easing them down so slowly and tentatively that I want to scream.
"Did they kiss you like this?" he asks, staring right into my eyes, then taking my bottom lip between his teeth and holding it for a couple of seconds.
"Who?" I ask when it’s released.
"Jared and Joshua, and Mitchell." His hips press harder against me, the bar of his cock lined up perfectly with my clit. From anyone else, it might sound jealous, but from Thomas, it just sounds curious.
"Everyone kisses differently."
"Does everyone fuck differently, too?"
"Of course. Kissing, dancing, fucking. It’s all different depending on who it’s with. Even I’m different depending on who I’m with."
"You are?" His hand squeezes my breast, his thumb seeking out the point of my nipple.
"I am." I bring my hands to his cheeks, relishing the scruff of his beard growth and loving the way his eyelids lower at my touch.
"How?"
"I feel the way you like to move, the way you like to touch, and I respond."