Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“We are,” he says, the warmth in his voice further easing my angst.
“Good. Then I can be persuaded to open this door on one condition—you grab the whipped cream before you come up anyway. If I can’t have more hot sex, I can at least have sugar.”
“Sounds good,” he says, his footsteps retreating down the stairs.
“No, it doesn’t,” I whisper. But that’s okay. Life isn’t always good. But an evening by the fire with a friend and some whipped cream isn’t bad, either.
In fact, it’s still something to be grateful for.
As I unlock the door and head into the museum to grab the mats, pulling them and a few bright pink pillows into the lobby by the fire, I practice being grateful for all the good things in my life.
And scheming…just a little.
I can’t help it. I’m a schemer from way back, and the look on Luke’s face as he emerges from the basement makes it impossible not to have wayward thoughts. The moment our eyes meet, electricity leaps between us all over again, even more intense than it was before.
He still wants that whipped cream with a side of Holly Jo, and I have a hard time denying people things they really want. I’m a people pleaser. It’s something I worked on in therapy for a while, before my therapist got sick of the long winters and moved to Florida.
So really, if I should happen to re-seduce Luke tonight, it’s not my fault. It’s Florida’s fault, for being so sunny and tempting to mental health professionals.
With a secret smile that feels just right on my face, I take the whipped cream and sit it on the edge of the stone fireplace, whispering, “Thank you so much,” as Luke settles beside me.
Chapter Nine
LUKE
“Should we try to get some sleep?” I ask, feeling like a prick for not discussing expectations before I stripped her naked.
For not warning her that I’m an emotional no-fly zone…
She doesn’t look upset, just resolved to be cheerful. It’s the first time I feel like her upbeat personality is in any way forced. Or maybe I’m just an arrogant ass for thinking she would care one way or the other about a future with me. Financials aside, I wouldn’t exactly call myself any woman’s version of a dream boyfriend.
What the hell would I put on the resumé for that position?
Workaholic, emotionally reserved, and perpetually late to important occasions, this thirty-six-year-old bachelor comes with a full guarantee that your father will hate him.
All fathers hate me, including my own.
It’s a hard sell. Most likely Holly is just fine seeing the last of me when I return to New York.
“I’m not tired.” Holly gives me a smile that looks genuine. Cute, with a side of sassy. “We have a lot of time to kill before morning.”
I know what I want to do with those hours stretching out in front of us and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Captain Herbert’s peg leg or Andy’s nuts or anything other than my mouth on every inch of Holly.
But it isn’t fair of me to expect she’ll feel the same way after our conversation. I need to stop assuming and make sure we’re on the same page.
“So…” I murmur, striving for casual. “What should we do then? Explore the museum?” I’d rather go out in the storm and make a snow angel naked than study the Junction’s dubious artifacts and Holly knows it.
She laughs. It’s not a giggle. It’s a low, soft, seductive purr. “I had something else in mind.”
She reaches for the can of whipped cream and lifts it up. She tips her head and lets it hover over her mouth. Then she pushes the nozzle. Only she flicks her wrist at the last second, so that she hits her bottom lip, creating a trail of whipped cream down her chin. Steadily, she moves her hand down, until a burst of cream hits the swell of her breasts, presently exposed by the haphazardly zipped reindeer suit she must have pulled on while I was locked in the basement.
Holy…
I lose the ability to speak. To think. All the blood in my body rushes straight to my cock.
“Oops,” she says, sliding her finger across her bottom lip. “I missed.”
“That’s a damn shame,” I say, my nostrils flaring.
She sucks the cream off of her flesh with a long, deep swallow of her fingertip. Then she removes her finger with a pop. “Mmm. Do you want to taste?”
All my good intentions fly out the window. I nod, ridiculously eager.
Holly holds the can out to me. “Here you go. Shoot your shot.”
The little minx is struggling not to grin.
I don’t think so. “That would be wasteful,” I say. “I’ll just taste what you have here already.”
Reaching out with my finger, I enjoy the view of her eyelashes sweeping downward and her lips parting on a sexy little sigh of anticipation. I give her a quick smirk before I lower my head and flick my tongue across the cream on the top of her breast, dipping deep enough through the sugary sweetness that I connect with her flesh.