Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“I have practice, Skylar.”
“I’m not trying to keep you from practice. I’m talking about in the morning. Are you going to come back or stay in Boston?”
Robbie didn’t respond. How could he?
One choice disappointed her. The other one had the potential to devastate him.
“I’ll text you after practice.”
“Bullshit.”
“Skylar . . .” I overestimated my ability to hand you over to someone else. Someone better. With that truth ringing in his head, he turned to leave.
Before he could open the bedroom door, Skylar’s hand twisted in the back of his T-shirt, holding him in place. “Wait.”
All at once, he couldn’t gather a breath, his chest tight with the need to turn around and look at her. Soak her in again.
Don’t do it.
“Thank you for coming. For staying as long as you did,” she said, getting herself together. Enough to sound a little formal, but sincere. “I’m sorry it has to end like this.”
End.
End?
That’s what he would do by leaving. End this, end them for good. Leaving before his part in the bargain was fulfilled. Not only his role as her fake boyfriend, but . . . the itinerary would never be completed. Jesus, if he left here without giving her making out day, at the very least, no greater crime would ever be committed. From now until the end of time.
“Why aren’t you leaving?” she whispered.
For a full three seconds, time and movement suspended, her words turning the air sluggish, even while his pulse started to beat a thousand miles an hour. Briefly, white light bled into the edges of his vision, his grip around the handle of his duffel growing less and less sure. In the end, it was the promise of her taste, the silkiness of her hair in his hands. The chance to burn himself into her brain, the way she’d done to him.
“I can’t fucking leave without knowing what it’s like to kiss you . . .” he said through his teeth. “When it’s just for us. Not for anyone else. Not for show.”
Clearly sensing his hesitation to go, the conflict being waged inside of him, Skylar maintained her hold on his shirt, using it to pull herself closer, closer, while he held his breath, letting it out on a big shudder when she went up on her toes, pressing her open mouth to the back of his neck and releasing a warm exhale.
“Go on. Show me how to make out, Robbie.”
Heat and hunger trampled through him. Juggernauts. “Skylar.”
Her right hand traveled slowly along his rib cage to the front of his body, pausing momentarily at the top of his abdominal muscles, before her fingers curled inward and her touch dropped away entirely. Leaving him sick. “Sorry, if you want to go, I won’t stop—”
Robbie dropped his bag and spun around in one swift movement, catching her face in between his hands, his mouth coming down on hers, their lips barely meeting before opening for each other, his tongue dipping into her mouth and stroking slowly, a breathy sound falling from both of them. One of uncertainty and hunger, all rolled into one.
He wanted to back her up, make her lose her balance onto the bed.
Get on top of her.
Kiss her until she forgot her name and location and started begging him to fuck.
He could do it. He could cover her mouth and bang her rough as hell, right under her father’s roof, make her squeal into his palm. Christ, he needed to know what her pussy felt like. How fast it dampened and how tight it clenched when she got excited. How well his cock would fit. Whether or not she liked to be pinned and flipped over and manhandled.
Making out was a far cry from sex, though.
Get yourself together.
She had asked to be taught. Not debauched.
“Come here,” he growled, breaking the kiss and leading her over to the dresser, turning her around so she could look in the mirror, Robbie looming behind her. That ass tucked into his lap like a motherfucking dream and although he tilted his hips slightly to get his dick tight between those ass cheeks, he grit his teeth and ignored the urge to yank down her yoga pants and panties, the way he wanted. “Look at yourself. In the mirror.”
“What?” Her neck seemed to lack power suddenly, her head briefly lolling to the right, before straightening up. “O-oh. Okay.”
“You told me before that sex happens too quickly, right? That you never get time to find a rhythm.” He fisted her hair and pulled to the left, exposing her neck, his open mouth dragging up the full length, not stopping until he reached her ear and groaned against the smooth shell of it. “We’re working on foreplay, Rocket. That’s the purpose of making out. You can demand what you need. You can ask for the things that will get you ready.”