Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I went ahead and put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher before making my way back over, finding her sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her spine in a C-shape as her eyes frantically moved over the page.
I had to admit, I’d gotten pulled right into that book too.
Kicking off my shoes, I sat down across the couch, reaching for her and pulling her between my legs.
“What are you doing?” she asked, only half paying me any attention.
“Getting comfortable,” I said, positioning her against my chest.
And feat of all feats, she didn’t try to move away. She just relaxed against me as she kept flipping pages.
As for me, I reached to pull a blanket off the back of the couch to cover her bare legs then entertained myself by running my hands through her hair, over her scalp, while half paying attention to the show on the TV.
It was the most relaxing night I’d ever had.
Even if Saff was a wiggly reader, constantly turning from one side to the other, pulling her legs up, putting them down. And that wasn’t even to mention all the dramatic sighs, grumbles, and the occasional quiet gasp.
I was drifting in and out of sleep when her voice shocked me awake.
“Soren.”
“Yeah?” I asked, pressing my face to the side of her head.
“Did you get to chapter seventeen?”
“No, I think I left off on sixteen. Why?”
Saff flipped back a few pages, then lifted the book a little higher. “Read it.”
It wasn’t long before the argument the characters had been in during the previous chapter turned into an entirely different kind of heat, and I suddenly understood why her thighs were pressed so tightly together.
“Turn the page for me,” I said as my hand slid down her body, just like the character in the book.
This was an entirely new kind of foreplay for me.
And I was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saff
It was just supposed to be a quick roll in the hay and I was out of there.
No feelings.
No sleeping over.
Hell, I didn’t even want any conversation.
Just bodies moving together.
Mutual pleasure.
An itch that needed scratching.
I’d been catching myself fantasizing about Soren all week. Even, once, while interrogating someone who I suspected of being involved in the beat-down of one of my associates.
The guy had been cuffed to a chair, and then I was suddenly imagining Soren cuffed there. And how I could tease him until he was groaning and practically humping the air in desperation…
Yeah.
I couldn’t be having borderline kinky images in my head when I was supposed to be beating answers out of a guy.
On more than a few occasions, I attempted to talk myself into walking in any random bar in Brooklyn, finding a guy I found remotely attractive, and getting sweaty for a few hours.
The problem was, the second I even tried to think about it, I got this churning in my stomach that immediately killed the desire.
Because, as I was coming to accept little by little, I wasn’t just horny for sex. It wasn’t like anyone would do.
I wanted Soren.
And only Soren.
Damnit.
I suffered for another full day before I finally snapped, grabbed the key out of my purse, and walked inside Soren’s building.
“Miss Amato,” Walter greeted me, looking genuinely happy to see me.
I’d been pep-talking myself the whole ride up, reminding myself that I was going to storm in there, climb the man like a tree, get an orgasm or two, then get right the hell back out.
Then those plans went all to hell when the doors opened.
And there he was.
Standing in the kitchen chopping something, his suit jacket off, and his sleeves rolled up all sluttily. Yep. Sluttily. I didn’t make the rules.
Then, well. Whiskey. Cooking. Talking. Sharing the only meal a man had ever cooked for me. Realizing he was reading one of my most anticipated books…
Sure, there had been sex.
And it’d been hard and rough and delicious.
But somehow, that paled in comparison to everything else.
Which was in no way helping the argument I’d been trying to make about how I just wanted him sexually, not personally.
Then the bastard had to pull me against his chest, cover me with a blanket, and rub my scalp while I read.
I tried to ignore the heart-clenching sensation he was causing by getting sucked into the story I was reading.
But then the characters who hated each other had to go and decide they wanted to settle an argument the old-fashioned way. Naked.
And, yeah, it went ahead and reignited that need inside me.
Luckily, this time, I had Soren right under me.
When I woke him up, I hadn’t exactly expected him to follow the hero’s lead in the book, his hand gliding between my legs, teasing me through my panties until I was rocking and whimpering. Then sliding under to torment me some more.