Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Yeah. And I wasn’t there nearly as often as I would have liked. Whenever I went to stay with her, my mother would get sick of working, come back to get me, and start using me for income. There’s a magazine out there somewhere with me modeling a sundress and hat with red-rimmed eyes because I was crying to go back with my grandmother on the way to the shoot.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for her feet and pressing my thumbs into her soles.
She arched like a cat, a surprised moan escaping her.
“Heels,” I said, shaking my head. “Dunno how you wear them.”
“Because they make our asses look really good.”
“Baby, you don’t need heels to make your ass look good.”
“I didn’t say you could stop,” she said, shooting me narrowed eyes when I paused.
So I massaged her feet, then her calves, watching her whole body relax inch by inch as the moments passed.
My fingers had just slipped under her robe, touching her thighs, when the damn room service knock came.
It was probably for the best anyway.
The last thing I wanted was to have things start getting heated again only to have a call come in to join the search efforts for Domenico.
“Don’t get your hopes too high. The overnight menu was shit. We have an assortment of flatbreads—spinach Florentine and BBQ chicken.”
We ate while talking more about both our childhoods, both of us seeming to marvel at how different they were. Hers, full of travel and high demands for performance. Mine, full of family and typical kid fun.
We drank more wine.
“I should probably get going,” she said, but made no move to do so.
I reached toward her, pulling until she went up on her knees on the cushion.
“Stay,” I demanded, my thumb gliding across the inside of her wrist.
Her smile was small and soft.
She shifted, sliding to straddle my lap.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, sealing her lips to mine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Roe
His cousin was literally (possibly) missing.
It was the least appropriate time to be climbing on his lap.
But the intimacy had been building for hours, and my desire was a slow thrum just under my skin just from talking to him and getting to know him more deeply.
Because it wasn’t one of those cases where you were irrationally attracted to someone, but the more you got to know them, the more they gave you the ick.
No, the more I learned about Milo, the more I liked him. Which only made the desire feel like something earned rather than random.
So I wasn’t surprised that the press of his lips to mine made that thrum become a throb that had me sinking down on his lap.
His lips tasted like wine.
His hands were warm as they glided up and down the sides of my thighs.
Heat sparked, caught, blazed, spread.
My hips sank down, and I could feel the proof of his own need against me.
I moaned against his lips, and his tongue slid inside to tease over mine.
His hands slid to my hips. The steady restraint he’d been clinging to cracked with a sharp inhale, his hands tightening on my hips with unapologetic pressure.
A small sound slipped from my throat as the kiss deepened, his mouth slanting harder against mine.
Heat flashed between us as his grip guided me closer, dragging me tightly against him.
My fingers twisted in his shirt.
His hands moved upward, spanning the curve of my lower back before tracing the line of the robe belt toward the front.
I could feel it—the shift from controlled to hungry.
The kiss grew hotter, rougher, our mouths moving with the kind of breathless urgency that had my pulse racing and my thoughts scattered.
His teeth grazed my lower lip, dragging a needy gasp out of me.
He swallowed the sound.
Then his hands slipped to the knot of the belt, working it loose.
Anticipation shivered down my spine as he grabbed the sides of the robe and spread them open, exposing me completely.
Milo’s lips tore from mine, his heated gaze dropping helplessly from my face, desperate to see me.
A deep rumble rolled through him. My thighs tightened on the sides of his legs at the neediness of that sound. My very blood was singing the same tune.
A slow heat unfurled low in my stomach as I watched Milo take me in—the parted lips, the fast, shallow breaths, the tight muscle dancing in his jaw.
I’d been seen before, desired before, but had never felt quite so wanted as I did in that moment.
Milo leaned forward, his lips pressing into the curve where my neck met my shoulder.
The shock of sensation had warmth pooling at the slow drag of his lips over my skin.
His hands rose, gliding up my ribs, trailing warmth wherever they went until his palms cupped my breasts.
My head fell back with a moan.
His hands tightened, released. Then his forefingers and thumbs were squeezing, rolling.