Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I zip off my veil and hat and stand above him, peering down.
“Are you okay?” I ask, still laughing.
“No.” His head rolls to the side until he’s looking at me. “Marina. You just had like, thousands of bees in your bare hands.”
“I know. This is part of my job. I do this almost every day.”
“Bloody hell. I am not cut out for this.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ll stick to poetry and playing obnoxiously loud music.”
“And singing. Don’t forget singing. You have a hell of a voice. Hey, maybe you can sing to the bees.”
“Yeah right. That probably signals for them to attack me.”
“Believe me, no bee in their right mind would sting you. What’s the point when you just run away every time, screaming like a little girl.”
“I think my ego just took a hit.”
“It’s about time. I was wondering if you’d ever be taken down a peg.”
“You know, as my friend, you’re supposed to keep lifting me up on pegs, not taking me down. And also, you could give me a hand.”
I sigh and straddle him, reaching down with both hands to grab his arms.
Except he reaches up and grabs me by the elbows instead and pulls me down so I’ve fallen in an awkward heap on top of him.
I yelp and am about to roll off when his arms wrap around me tight, holding me in place, keeping me pressed against his chest.
“Let go of me, you beast,” I say playfully, both enjoying being this close to him and also wondering what the hell is happening because Laz and I have never been the touchy-feely kind of friends. We hug but we don’t hold hands, we don’t cuddle, we don’t have wrestling or tickling matches.
He grunts in response and then rolls over so he’s on top of me now, elbows planted on either side of my shoulders.
Oh hell. This feels good. The hard and heavy length of his body flush against mine, the weight of him making me feel so small and dainty and…captive.
I know he expects me to squirm. I know I should. But secretly, I’m in heaven.
“I need a little help with the veil,” he says, his tone a little too innocent.
I narrow my eyes, staring through the mesh. “I don’t trust you.”
“Please,” he says.
“Oh, fine,” I say and reach up, unzipping it from the front of his jacket and then lifting it up off his head and tossing the hat to the grass.
“Thanks,” he says but he doesn’t get off me. He bites his lip and brings one of his hands to my face, fingers pressed against my cheekbone, his dark eyes searching mine. That same intense gaze that he had earlier has come over him again, a look that makes me sink back into the grass, for my heart to start beating harder against my ribs.
“Remember,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing down my cheek, along the side of my lips. I don’t even think I’m breathing. “When I said it was the perfect time to kiss you? Well, I lied. I think now is the perfect time.”
“Because I can’t run away?” I try to joke but my words come out all garbled. Oh my god, I’m losing my mind here.
He smiles softly but the carnal gaze in his eyes never leaves me. It strips me bare. “Second date, sweet girl.”
But…but…but…
There are so many things to protest. So many things to say to stop this from happening.
But I don’t want to say any of them.
I try and swallow, my chest feeling tight, like there’s a vice around my heart.
If he kisses me, I might actually die.
He closes his eyes and leans in and I’m suddenly so aware that we’re both in bee suits and he’s lying on top of me in the middle of the backyard.
And then I’m aware of nothing at all.
Nothing but his lips as they gently press against mine.
Soft, warm and firm all at once.
It’s so sudden and shocking despite his warning.
But then his lips part gently, opening up against my mouth and my eyes flutter closed as I give into him.
His tongue slides into my mouth, slow, almost painfully slow, this teasing drag along the edge of my tongue that makes my skin run hot and tight. A desperate urge rises up from inside me, the steel of his tongue ring cool and sleek.
Fuck.
This is happening.
And it’s still happening.
Like any new dance, it starts off tentative, wary, and then morphs, his mouth growing hungrier, our tongues sliding in and out with building urgency. Laz presses his hips into mine and I can feel how hard he is.
For me. All for me.
He lets out a low groan into my mouth and it rumbles through me, all the way to my toes, my thighs squeezing together to quell the throbbing. His hands are in my hair, on my jaw, holding my head down against the grass and my fingers are drifting over his shoulders, feeling his strength, as our kiss deepens and deepens and deepens.