Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
He doesn’t, so I kiss his cheek and linger a few seconds before dropping to my heels.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, blinking several times before ducking his head, lips brushing my cheek before kissing it. “And the leak isn’t fixed yet, but I’ll get it done.”
Plumbing has never sounded so sexy. This is torture.
It’s hot in here, so I swallow hard and pull my hair over one shoulder. His gaze follows my hands, and suddenly it’s not only hot in here, it’s really quiet. I still when he reaches for my hair, sliding a few locks between his fingers while dipping his head again. This time, he teases his lips along my neck while his other hand skates to my waist and the bare skin between my crop top and pants.
My jaw slackens as I fight the unsteadiness in my knees.
Flynn kisses my neck from my shoulder to my ear, and I feel his grin when I shiver. How is it possible to shiver while on fire?
I tease his nape with my fingernails, and his grip on my waist tightens as his other hand cups the back of my head, angling it so our mouths line up. I lean in for a kiss, but he pulls back a fraction and grins.
I might kill him.
“Fuck you,” I whisper. That word rarely comes out of my mouth, but he’s pushed me to my limit.
His grin swells for a second before he comes back in and kisses me. A real kiss. How will I explain this kiss to Ally, my mom, or my grandkids one day? Sure, to everyone else, it would seem like just a kiss. It’s not. It might be better than sex, chocolate, and cocaine—all combined.
My only fear? It’s going to end. And Flynn has somehow made himself the gatekeeper of kisses. How long before I get another one?
Another hit.
Another high.
My free hand grips his arm to steady myself as he walks me backward a few steps until my back hits the wall. My lips part a little more to let him taste the inside of my mouth. A low moan vibrates between us, and I’m not sure if it’s me or him.
He ghosts his fingers along my ribs, thumb brushing the bottom of my breast over my shirt. Then he slides it a fraction more, and his thumb barely moves, almost like a twitch, but it does so along my nipple.
I might orgasm just from that.
And then … nothing.
He stands straight, hands at his sides while rubbing his lips together. I touch my lips as if I need proof that the kiss happened. In doing so, I grin.
Flynn’s shoulders pull back an extra inch. “It’s shaping up to be a pretty damn good day,” he says.
Why does his declaration make me blush even more? I chuckle and nod slowly. “Agree.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says.
I continue to bob my head as if it’s on a spring. He opens the door beside me, and I snap to attention as he steps into the hallway and turns.
“Thanks for letting me kiss you and touch your boob,” he says with the most matter-of-fact expression.
I roll my lips between my teeth and nod several times. He’s so … everything!
Confident.
Sexy.
Yet, vulnerable and funny.
In the next breath, he’s halfway down the stairs. I close the door and lean my back against it.
Don’t do it.
I can’t help myself. He’s gone, but I still feel his hands on me. I cup my breast over my shirt, grazing my nipple like he did, and my other hand slides down the front of my linen pants.
Chapter Twelve
Rupert
“He’s a terrible muse,” I say to my wife from the doorway to the second-floor balcony overlooking the gardens on the opposite side of the house as the lake. It’s a muggy day. Even the air smells like warm earth, the inside of a compost bin.
Callie doesn’t turn to look at me. After a long inhale and equally slow exhale, she nods. “I called you uninspiring, so you found a man who is the younger version of you, and you thought he’d be better?”
I sit on the edge of the lounger beside hers, hands folded between my legs. “You liked the younger version of me.”
She grunts a laugh, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “I liked our life when it was innocent.”
I stare at her bare leg, poking through the opening in her robe. She’s as beautiful as ever. I miss our playfulness, the passion, our unlikely love story. I miss her even though she’s right here. We live like strangers in this big house. Acquaintances on a good day.
“I was far from innocent,” I say.
She cracks open one eye and surprises me with a smirk. “Neither is Flynn.”
“Yeah, but I like the kid.”
“He’s not our son.”
I track a hummingbird making its way to the feeder hanging from a hook off the edge of the railing. “I know. However, you were going to stay in bed today, until he barged into your room. Now, here you are.”