Fernhill Lane (Huckleberry Bay #2) Read Online Kristen Proby

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Huckleberry Bay Series by Kristen Proby
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
<<<<41422232425263444>77
Advertisement


“Oh, my cat is invited on this date, too?”

“Sure. It’s a casual date.” I smile at her. “What do you say?”

“That sounds nice. What can I bring?”

“I have it covered. You can help me cook.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “That’s one skill I never learned, Tanner. I burn boiled water. I’m horrific in the kitchen.”

“You never cooked?”

“We had a chef.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I was good at going over a weekly menu with him. And now, I take orders and deliver food, but I do not cook.”

I nod slowly. “Okay, so we’re adding cooking lessons to tonight’s agenda, then. Do you still like salmon with asparagus? Maybe some pasta in a nice cream sauce?”

“Who doesn’t like that?”

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

I gesture for her to walk ahead of me, and when she does, my eyes can’t stay off of her ass. She always had a fucking incredible backside. It fit perfectly in my hands as she rode me, and that’s absolutely not what I should be thinking about right now.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You just cleared your throat, like, three times. Are you getting sick?”

“No, of course not.” I lead her inside the house and point to her cat. “Looks like she hasn’t moved.”

“I told you, she loves that spot.” Sarah turns to me and tilts her head to the side. “But really, what’s wrong?”

“I’m great. You’re here, and I get to eat delicious food.”

Her eyes narrow. “Uh-uh. I don’t buy it.”

“You.” I lick my lips and then lean against the kitchen counter, staring at her. “I’m thinking about you in ways that don’t involve a simple dinner or me keeping my manners in check when I kiss you goodnight. I’m thinking about the way your butt feels in my hands when we’re naked and the little sounds you make when you come, and how much I’ve wanted you for more than a decade.”

I take a deep breath and watch as her eyes glass over.

“But that’s not what we’re here for. Not yet. So, let’s drop it and have a nice dinner because I’m starving.”

I turn to the refrigerator, open the door, and stare blindly inside.

“Tanner.” Sarah’s hand glides up my arm, to my shoulder, and over to my neck. When it’s halfway down my back, I turn to her.

“What?”

“There’s absolutely no reason that we can’t have dinner and sex. In whatever order you’d like.”

Fucking hell, my system can’t take it. I cup her cheeks in my hands and stare into her eyes intently, searching to make sure that she means it and isn’t just saying the words because she wants to pay me back for my hospitality.

Not that Sarah would ever do that.

“Make sure you mean it.”

Chapter Seven

Sarah

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about something in my life.” My eyes drop to his lips, and I lick my own instinctively as his hands drop away from my face. “I’ve wanted you forever, Tanner. Since I was a kid.”

His hands flex in and out of fists, as if he’s restraining himself from touching me, so I take one of his hands in mine and bring it back up to my face.

“I want you to touch me. I’m not fragile or broken. I’m a woman, well aware of what, and who, I want.”

“I don’t think you’re fragile, but you are precious,” he says as his fingers move into my hair to brush gently. “And I don’t care if that sounds cheesy.”

“Maybe only a little cheesy.” I grin and lean into him, and when his lips press against my forehead, I can’t help but sigh.

Tanner always did give the very best forehead kisses.

His hands drift down my arms, to my hands, and our fingers link. “How hungry are you?”

“I can wait.” I squeal when he lifts me into his arms and carries me down a hallway to what I assume is his bedroom. It also faces the water and is a total bachelor pad, with nothing on the white walls, simple black furniture, and a messy bed.

He tosses me onto the bed playfully, then jumps over me and crawls up my body, kissing his way to my neck.

He still hasn’t kissed me on the lips, and I’m dying for his lips to be on mine.

Finally, his mouth hovers just an inch from my own, and I can’t stand it anymore.

“Are you ever going to kiss me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, his eyes pinned to my mouth. “I’m going to kiss you, sweetheart.”

He drags his knuckles down my cheek, tips my chin up just a bit, and then he sinks into me, and everything else just melts away.

This man can kiss. Never too much tongue or lips too firm. Never too needy or sloppy.

Just absolutely perfect.

And he kisses me like his life depends on it. Like his only job in this world is to kiss my lips and drive me wild.


Advertisement

<<<<41422232425263444>77

Advertisement