Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Intrigue and adoration hit her glowing gaze in the same breath prompting her to connect our hands. Once out of the vehicle, I bring up the song on my phone, toss it on the edge of the seat, and wrap one arm around her waist while the other holds the more traditional upright position that cradlers her hand. Harper lovingly drapes her arm around my neck while slowly swaying to the sweet crooning of my favorite singer.
With the moonlight illuminating the asphalt, we transform the parking lot into our own private dance floor, an action that puts images involving her in a white dress at the front of my mind.
I don’t wanna rush her.
But I can’t pretend I wanna wait, either.
How could I?
How could I ever let someone so kind and caring and bloody thoughtful go unbound to me forever?
She needs a ring.
I need to get her a ring.
“Thank you for this,” I quietly state. “It means more to me than you bloody know.”
“Bringing you cake?”
“Showing you care.”
“Of course, I care.” Her brown eyes hold my green hostage. “Given the exhausted look you walked out of the restaurant with, I’m guessing it was a rough night.”
“Right up until you showed up.”
She flashes a modest beam. “What happened?”
“Bad customers. Bad mood. Bad vibe all around.”
Sympathy doesn’t hesitate to creep into her stare.
“But you make everything so much better, Harper.”
Blush begins coating her cheeks.
“Coño, just…instantly…my whole life feels good again.”
Her teeth steal a tiny bite from her bottom lip.
“Being with you is the only anniversary gift I’ll ever need.” My forehead gently presses itself to hers. “Never forget that.”
A loving hum is freed before she teases, “Does that mean you want me to get a refund for the other one?”
“Of course not.”
Our laughter is sadly cut short by a familiar ringtone.
Sorrow appears in both our stares, yet honestly, I’m not sure whose gets that way faster.
She quietly croaks, “I gotta go, babe.”
“I know.” Nodding in understanding is swiftly done. “I know the drill.” After retrieving my phone, I warmly insist, “Drive or fly safe, okay?”
“Always.” There’s a sweet peck placed on my lips. “Headed home?”
“Coño, I love that we live together.”
Girlish giggles bounce her shoulders as she makes her way to the driver side, keys in hand. “Is that a yes?”
“I’m gonna swing by the bar and have a pint first. Thanks to shagging you that’s all I need now.”
Red tints her cheeks prior to a sweet scolding. “Promise me you won’t drink any more than two and drive.”
“Geallaim.”
“And now in Spanish.”
“Te lo promento.”
“And in good ol’ English to round it all off.”
“I promise, beautiful.”
Harper lets out a happy sigh and slides into the front seat. “I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”
“I love you.”
I step away from her SUV to give her the clearance she needs to leave yet continue to linger in the space until she’s completely out of sight.
See, that’s the thing about being in love with Harper.
I really don’t need shite else for a buzz.
Getting drunk off her is more than bloody enough.
And the best part is that it’s one glass I know will never go empty.
Chapter 9
Harper
I give the red, boho style dress with a high slit another nervous fidget.
Am I too old for this dress?
Can a person be too old for a dress?
Do I look young and fun and hip?
Cripes…did I really just say hip?
I meant…trendy.
Trendable?
Fuckable?
Fuckable works.
That one is timeless.
Tate rounds the corner, leaving the walk-in closet area, to catch me battling with the flowy fabric near the low-cut front that’s showing off the sides of my tits in a way I am hoping keeps his attention on me rather than the numerous just got tits this decade females we’ll be seeing around the venue. Like he does often – so often I sometimes can’t believe it – he stops dead in his tracks, leans his shoulder against the nearest wall, and admires the view of my backside.
Oh…he so is a hound dog.
Thankfully, however, it is me he’s “crying” over all the time.
“What do you think?” I uncomfortably ask from the area near my side of the sink. “Too much? Do I look like I’m trying too hard? Am I trying too hard?”
“Beautiful, you’re about to spend the afternoon stomping on grapes, eating dinner, and drinking wine with my parents, my cousins, and our best friends, not trying to seduce the pope.”
His playful comment immediately receives a glare in the mirror.
“You look the same as you always do.”
There’s a twitch of uncertainty in my expression.
“Perfecta.”
The tone combined with the predatory glint in his eye tells me he’s going to say it in Irish next.
“Foirfeachta.”
“You’re gonna say it in English now, aren’t you?” I ask as he creeps closer to me from behind.
“No, I’m gonna show it in body language, mi linda.”
Time to think or counter his movements isn’t allotted. One minute I’m preparing to protest that this is not on the day’s itinerary and the next I’m pitilessly pinned over the sink, palms pressed tightly against the mirror for leverage with Tate’s cock anxiously piercing my pussy from behind.