Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
He set me on the counter before rummaging around and coming back with a temporal thermometer.
“Normal.” His brows furrowed. “Maybe it’s not working.”
“Chris?”
“Mm?” He was only half paying attention as he glowered at the thermometer.
“I don’t have a fever.”
“You’re really pink,” he said, setting down the thermometer with a sigh and focusing on my face.
“And it’s not from a fever.”
“The meds?” he asked.
“No. I don’t feel those anymore.”
“Then what?”
I shook my head at him and reached down to glide a fingertip up his forearm.
“Your slutty sleeves, that’s what.”
“My what?” He screwed up his brows, watching me like he thought I really had lost it. That not only did I likely have a fever, but it was high enough for me to be hallucinating or something like that.
“Your slutty sleeves. Well, I guess the sleeves themselves aren’t slutty. It’s the way they’re rolled up and the arms that are exposed.”
I watched realization dawn with a slow, cocky smirk on his lips.
“Really? Forearms are doing it for you? Been a while, huh?”
“I know. It’s stupid. I feel like a man from the 1800s who lost his mind over seeing a flash of ankle.”
“Losing your mind, huh?” he asked, his voice taking on that deep, raspy timber that came with interest, with attraction.
“Yeah. That whole wiping the table down thing was really doing it for me.”
“Doing what?” he asked, eyes going hazy with his own desire.
My gaze flicked down, then back up.
“You know what.”
“Do I?” he asked, his hips pressing against my knees in a way that he could have claimed was an accident.
Only when my legs parted for him, did he press into the space between.
My finger, still on his forearm, slid upward, moved over his elbow, his bicep, as I watched his gaze triangle between my eyes and my lips.
I watched the way he sucked in a breath, then exhaled it with a whispered, “Fuck it.”
He caught my mouth, and I moaned against his lips as a tremble of need moved through me.
The sound had his hands sliding up the sides of my thighs, over my hips, ribs, the sides of my breasts, then framing my face as he tipped my head back and deepened the kiss.
My own arms went up and wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as his teeth nipped my lower lip until a soft whimper escaped me.
A lazy ache curled up my spine, slow, relentless, as Christopher’s tongue teased over mine.
One of his hands moved down, sliding over my breast, his lips swallowing my whimper as his hand squeezed, his thumb teasing around the hardened point.
“Christopher,” I whimpered, using my legs to try to pull him flush against me so I could feel the outline of him where I was aching for the friction most.
But he wouldn’t let me pull him closer.
Instead, his hand glided downward, slipped into the waistband of my panties, and teased down my cleft.
A surprised cry escaped me, the sound swallowed by his soft hiss of a curse. “You’re so wet for me already,” he murmured, his lips near mine. All I could manage was a soft whimper as his thumb slid up to pass over my clit and two of his fingers slipped down, pressed in.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead hitting mine as his fingers glided inside me, my walls tightening around them.
Christopher’s head ducked, his breath warm on my neck. “You need to be quiet for me, okay?” he murmured, his lips brushing my skin.
I nodded, not trusting myself to part my lips even to answer him as his fingers started to thrust, as his thumb began to circle.
I leaned in, pressing my face into his neck, pushing my lips against his skin, muffling my whimpers as he drove me up, up—
The jingle of keys in the lock had us springing apart.
A cry of disappointment escaped me, and I could see a similar look on his face as he quickly yanked the door open.
Just in time, it seemed.
“Just let me know when you need a lift to bed,” he called, sounding calm, casual, not like he’d almost been caught with his hands down my pants.
“Thanks,” I called back, kicking the door closed with my good leg before letting out a pathetic whimper.
I took a second to pull myself together before climbing off the cabinet, stripping, and hopping into the shower, all the while wondering how the hell parents tolerated interruptions like that. And these were older kids. It must be a thousand times harder to get busy with nosy little kids around. What, were you relegated to the middle of the night, quiet, missionary sex until the kids were older?
I suddenly felt the need to sit down with my sister and ask. Then offer to watch the kids so she and Brio could get a hotel room and bang as loud as they wanted.