Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
My smile grows. He’s always been handsome, but something about seeing him so relaxed and at ease in his skin is special. “I’m good. How about you, Greene?” I ask, not as tired as I thought I was now that he’s here.
He hums and lies back, his eyes redirecting to the ceiling. “I’m . . . why does this feel like we do it all the time?”
It’s got to be the hour. Who has the energy for pretenses at four o’clock? “Do what exactly?” Twisting my lips to the side, I try my best to restrain the smirk that wants to come out to play.
I sense he’s on to me when he chuckles. “Do you always flirt with men who break into your apartment at ungodly hours and get in your bed, or am I the lucky guy?”
Am I flirting with him?
Maybe . . .
“What? I can’t have some fun in this extremely awkward situation?”
“That’s just it. This doesn’t feel awkward at all to me.” His smile doesn’t fade but hangs on and grows wider. He even rolls to the side to face me as if a casual look out of the corners of his eyes wasn’t enough.
Stop overthinking this. It’s just fun among friends. That’s all. I roll to my side to face him because caution was thrown out quite a while ago. “What does it feel like?” Fine, I’m flirting. Doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with the man.
“Natural.”
I could read so much into that answer, but instead, I stare into his eyes, choosing to spend my time appreciating him. “For me, too,” I whisper.
He reaches to run the back of his fingers over my cheek, causing my heart to skip a beat. When he pulls his hand back, he says, “I should have called you after the reception.”
“Why is that?”
“Because there was something—a spark, a gut instinct, something firing between us that night, and I was too stupid to follow up on it.”
“No following required.” I slide my gaze down to his chest. This feels so intimate, more than seeing each other naked. “You didn’t owe me anything.”
“I know. I thought about you, though . . .” He tips his head down until he catches my eyes again. “When I was back in New York.”
“What did you think?”
“I should have kissed you behind the barn.” Not sure why that sounds so illicit and sexy, but we’re both grinning. Keeping his voice low between us, he asks, “Do you believe in second chances, Lauralee?”
Although my heart stopped beating earlier, it now starts racing. My lips part, providing space for much-needed air in the moment. Before I reply, I think about tonight and the detours this journey between us has taken. Do I want a second chance with Baylor? To pick up where we left off more than two years earlier? “When you say second chance—”
“I want to kiss you.”
Boom. He drops the truth like a bomb between us, and whatever I say is going to detonate one way or the other. It’s all relying on whatever I want and what I say next. Who am I kidding? It’s a kiss, not sex. “I’d be open to that.”
His cheeks become uneven as one side rides higher, and he lifts onto his elbow. His palm returns this time, cupping my face and holding me still as I study everything about this man’s face in the span of the two seconds it takes him to home in on me.
The dusting of scruff covering his chin.
The way his eyes fixate on my mouth.
And how the warmth of his hand is calming as he closes in.
He grazes his lips against mine before pulling back to look into my eyes once more, as if needing permission is all that’s stopping him. Should I be kissing my best friend’s brother? Probably not. Do I want to? God yes.
I slide my hand around his neck and whisper, “What are you waiting for, Greene?”
“I’ve wanted to do this all night.” He smirks just before his mouth crashes into mine.
Throwing my arms around him, I hold him close, so close until the weight of his chest lands on mine. His lips caress mine as his hand still graces my face, then lowers to my neck. Gentle pressure at the base of my neck has me squirming in need of more body contact. I move my hips toward him, which encourages him to shift his over me.
His length is hard, pressed against my thigh as he starts to seek relief. Feeling him already turned on by me, by simply a kiss and then deepening it, has me needy for more.
A girl can change her mind, can’t she?
Dipping his mouth to my shoulder, he kisses me there, and his nose follows, taking a deep breath of me. The gesture sends a wave of goose bumps down my arms. “You smell so good, baby.”