Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I think you sexed me unconscious.”
He hums, his chest vibrating against my cheek. “Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing wrong with a power nap.” He kisses my forehead again before adding in a softer voice, “This is the best night I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me, too,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Freckles,” he says, a warmth in his voice that brings tears to my eyes. “Very much my pleasure.”
I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep before I do something mortifying like start sobbing on his chest or telling him how much I’ve missed all of this. Not just sex, but flirting, closeness, just being held…
But sleep doesn’t come easily, and when it finally does, I dream of being back in bed with Ben. Before he left me, before our family split down the middle, before I learned just how painful it is to have a happily ever after cut short. But even in my dreams, a part of me knows, it’s all a lie.
There’s no going back, and I’m not sure how to move forward.
I do know, however, that having an epic sex fest with a man I hate was a mistake.
A serious, possibly calamitous mistake…
Chapter 4
Aaron
I wake up feeling like a million bucks and for a moment, can’t remember why. I only know that I feel more relaxed than I have in years. For the first time in ages, nothing hurts or creaks or reminds me that I’m an older-than-average minor leaguer trying to earn a coveted spot in the NHL.
I feel at peace and oh-so-satisfied.
Satisfied…
Images of all the things I did to Melissa McGuire last night—and all the things Freckles the Fearless did to me—flood into my head, banishing the sleep fog. Instantly, my morning wood becomes something more serious.
I glance to the other side of the queen bed to see Mel curled up with her hand under her cheek and her lips slightly parted in sleep, looking so fucking beautiful, I have to have her again.
And I know just how to prove I’m devoted to her pleasure…
With a smile, I slip under the covers, scooting down until I’m parallel to one beautiful bare leg. I kiss her ankle first, marveling at how tiny she is. When she’s awake, the force of Mel’s personality makes a person forget that she’s barely five-two and about as big around as my bicep. But when she’s asleep, she’s all soft curves and delicate bones and happy sighs as I gently guide her legs apart and kiss my way toward the heaven between her thighs.
I’m nearly to that slick paradise I can’t wait to pleasure awake with my tongue when she stiffens. A beat later, a fist connects with the back of my head—hard enough to make stars dance behind my eyes and my nose smash into the mattress.
“Ow, what the hell?” I cry out, looking up as she lifts the covers to glare down at me.
“That’s my line. What the hell are you doing?”
I blink. “Um, trying to wake you up in the best way humanly possible?”
“By molesting me while I’m asleep?” she shoots back, still glaring. “I’m not Sleeping Fucking Beauty. I don’t want men kissing me while I’m unconscious, Aaron. Especially men I don’t know very well and especially not under the covers like some feral raccoon that escaped from the attic to rummage around in my panties. I have a feral raccoon in my attic, by the way. They’re not cute, like some people think. They’re scary and mean and have really long teeth.”
I huff in disbelief. “You’re seriously getting angry with me for trying to give you an orgasm?”
She rolls her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Not surprised by what?” I ask, more confused with every passing second.
“That you don’t get it,” she says, drawing her legs up to her chest before swinging them over the side of the bed. “Of course, you don’t get it.” She hops to the floor and grabs her jeans from the chair by the window, tugging them on with swift jerks. “You’re Aaron Boudreaux, the golden boy of Bad Dog, the sports ball hero who can do no wrong. You’ve probably never had a woman tell you ‘no’ in your entire life.”
I sit up, suddenly wanting my clothes on, too. If I’m facing an early morning ambush, I’d rather do it with less skin exposed.
I scoot off the other side of the bed and snatch my shirt from the carpet. I tug it on, saying as my head emerges, “You have no idea who I am.”
“I know you didn’t sleep on the couch like you promised,” she says, her hair sticking up in a staticky, dark brown cloud as she tugs it free from the top of her sweater. “And that you made me feed you after I told you I didn’t want to feed you.”