Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
If Adam had antlers, scales, or two heads, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d still do everything I promised, which was to tick off things on his list.
But then, I see him, and dear Lord, a warning would have been nice.
He could have told me he looked like Tom Hardy, if Tom Hardy were over six feet, had blue eyes, and long-ish black hair that kissed the tops of his ears.
He had no business knowing how to talk dirty and looking this good. I saw him, and my self-esteem plummeted to the ground.
Hot sparks shot through my body when he took my hand, and my core clenched when he started drawing on my palm.
It wasn’t fair!
But then, he tried to coax me out of my shell, where I wanted to stay forever if I could, and that did me in.
His face has darkened ever since I told him I wasn’t wearing anything. He was about to say something when the server came bringing trays of food.
Adam is everything I dreamed of and more.
We’re already enjoying our desserts—some fancy tiramisu I can finish in two bites—when I realize Adam has stopped eating and drinking and is just staring at me instead. And the way he stares? God, he might as well peel off my clothes one layer at a time … preferably using his teeth.
Oh, wait.
There are no layers. I have a dress on and nothing else. I mean, what can I say? A woman has to come prepared after all that tension in our emails. I knew I was going to get laid tonight even before I went to the shower, which was why I took my time lathering on body washes, body butter, and spritzes of my favorite perfume. Yes, I even sprayed some on my inner thighs. You know, just in case.
Adam’s attention is pure heat, and the little touches are driving me insane, stroking a sensitive nerve somewhere deep inside me.
I clear my throat, trying to ground myself. I was so flirty in our emails, but I can’t seem to find that version of me right now. I’m too nervous and turned on. “You don’t like tiramisu?”
It’s such a stupid question, and we both know it.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “I’m waiting for you to feed me.”
I raise a brow and lift the fork to my lips. “I am so not feeding you on the first date. You have to earn it.”
He watches me put the bite in my mouth, and I decide to push him a bit, sweeping my tongue along the fork and moaning. “Well, I do have another dessert in mind, but it’s not on the menu.”
Oh, shit. My thighs automatically cinch together, and I’m so close to rubbing them together. “Too bad, I’m full.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Depends if it’s actually good.”
Adam smiles, and my God, I have no defense against the million-watt charm behind it. “You know, my new coffee machine was delivered last week, and I’ve been reading about pulling shots and taking barista courses on YouTube.”
I realize immediately what he’s getting at, and tingles go through my body, my stomach flipping at the thought of being alone with him. “Oh, yeah? Will it be any good?”
Adam drops his smile and leans forward. “Come home with me and find out.”
Just like that. My self-preservation goes up in flames. Yes, I am definitely getting laid tonight.
I didn’t really believe him when he said he had a new coffee machine. I thought it was just a polite way of asking me to go to his home.
So imagine my surprise when I step inside his apartment.
“You weren’t joking,” I say, chuckling and pointing at the sleek, still-half-wrapped espresso machine sitting on his pristine kitchen counter. “Did you buy that just to impress me?”
He shuts the door behind us, then shrugs. “Obviously.”
“It still has the stickers on it.” I circle it, running a finger along its cool, smooth exterior. “I feel like this machine has never known the sinful touch of an espresso pod.”
“Ma’am, I learned from the experts that ‘actually good coffee’ doesn’t come from pods. We have to use freshly ground beans.” Adam leans against the counter beside me, arms crossed. “Besides, I was saving its first time for someone special.”
“Are we still talking about coffee, or…?”
“Depends. Are you still talking about coffee?”
The air thickens, warm and buzzing, but somehow easy too, because instead of retreating, I grin and reach for the instruction manual. “Okay, then. Let’s see if we can make this virgin machine scream.”
He chokes on his own laugh. “Jesus, Amelia.”
“What? I like my coffee loud, and just a little bit extra … without compromising the taste, obviously.”
“You mean like you?”
I fake offense, hand to heart. “Excuse you, I am the perfect amount of extra.”
Over the next hour, we try every button, every nozzle, every cup size the coffee gods allow. I burn my tongue on the first espresso shot and burn the beans on the second. The third tastes watery as hell, and the fourth is way too bitter for me.