Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
The pasta arrives, and it’s nuclear with garlic, the aroma so strong it could kill a vampire at forty paces. My lamb follows, perfectly seared, the scent of rosemary cutting through the haze. I try a bite, and the flavor nearly buckles my knees.
“Holy freaking cow,” I mutter, unable to keep the reverence out of my voice.
Seth grins. “Told you it’s the best.”
We eat, the wine working its way into my bones. My limbs go loose, my thoughts a little blurrier at the edges. I lose track of time until I realize I’m staring at his hands again, the way they cradle the fork, the flex of his forearm when he cuts into the pasta. It’s hypnotic.
He catches my gaze. “You okay?”
I swallow hard. “Sorry. Was just… thinking.”
“About?”
I should lie. It would be safer. But the wine is making me reckless. “What’s happening between us.”
He sets down his fork, leans in, elbows on the table. “We’re getting to know each other, then we’ll move on to the next phase.”
My mouth goes dry. I pick up my wine and sip, but it doesn’t help. “The next phase?”
He sits back and stares into my eyes. “I’m still figuring that out,” he sighs, “but I can’t stop thinking about you, Frankie.” His jaw flexes, like he hates the admission. “You’re already under my skin, so I’m going to do something about it.”
I want to say something witty. Instead, all that comes out is, “Okay.”
He likes that. There’s a slow-burning satisfaction in his expression that turns my insides to mush. He reaches across the table, his fingers lightly stroking the back of my hand, and I forget to breathe.
CHAPTER 5
SETH
The ride back to the Silver Spoon Inn is short, but I drag it out, giving myself time to get my shit under control. I take the long route, slipping through silent back streets where the only eyes on us are sagging porch lights and a brave raccoon rifling through someone’s garbage.
Frankie is sitting next to me, legs crossed, and body turned just enough that I can see the barest hint of thigh when the Mustang hits a bump. She’s so fucking close I can smell her delicate fragrance, and my cock has been hard enough to drive nails since the moment I saw her standing in the Silver Spoon Inn.
She glances at me as I make the final turn. “You gonna walk me to my door?”
I shoot her a look as my cock orders me to walk her to the goddamn door. “Of course.”
She laughs, and the sound rolls through my head on repeat. I punch the Mustang’s parking brake and cut the engine. I barely remember grabbing her hand, but suddenly we’re moving past the lobby and into the elevator.
The hotel is stone quiet except for the click of her heels and the soft thud of my boots. Frankie’s hand is still in mine. She doesn’t let go, not even when we pass a couple of tipsy wedding guests, not even when I slow at the end of the corridor to read the room numbers.
Her suite is at the very end. Figures. The walk is a slow burn, every step another chance to reach for her, but I hold off. Just barely. The hall is lit with wall sconces that paint us in long, warm shadows. At her door, she pauses, keycard in hand, and turns toward me. Waiting.
I pin her there, one hand braced on the door above her head. She looks up at me, lips parted, eyes glassy from the wine. “Is this your move?” she asks, but her voice is all invitation and zero fight.
“I don’t have moves,” I say, but my thumb is already grazing her jaw, angling her face up to mine. “Just instincts.”
She shivers. Just once, a pulse in her throat. “Show me.”
I do. I kiss her, deep and shameless, pushing her back so the door frame holds us steady. She melts against me, her hands on my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt with enough force to anchor herself. I taste her—wine, rosemary, and something that’s all Frankie—and it goes straight to my head. I kiss her like I’m trying to devour her whole.
I want to take my time, but I can’t. She makes a hungry, impatient sound in the back of her throat, and my cock hardens painfully. My hands run down her waist, finding the soft curve of her hip. I palm her there, greedy, and she rocks against me like she’s with me all the way.
I pull back, just enough to catch my breath. Her lips are swollen and flushed, eyes bright. “Are you sure about this?” I ask, my voice rough as gravel.
She blinks up at me, like the question is a punchline. “I’ve never been surer.”
A low groan escapes my lips as I capture her mouth in another searing kiss, our bodies pressed tightly against each other. The hunger between us ignites, burning brighter with each passing second.