Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I didn’t realize that he was ten years older. From his looks to his personality, he has some age range he could fall into. So it’s not shocking news. I trail the tips of my nails under his chin and put my hand at my side again. “It’s so cliché to be in an age-gap romance.”
“Is that what we are? An age-gap romance?” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt so old in my life.”
“Come on.” I smile, feeling the tiniest bit of empathy for him. “It’s alright to be an old man with a hot younger wife.” I give a little shake of my hips.
A smile finds its rightful place on his face, but there’s no smugness or arrogance attached. “That’s not why I feel old.”
“Oh yeah, then why do you feel that way?”
“You may be my wife—”
“I am your wife,” I correct with a set-in grin.
“You’re my wife, but the things I’ve thought about doing to you make me feel like I could be arrested.”
Leaning down, which isn’t far for me to go despite him sitting on the edge of the bed, I run my fingers through the hair over his ear, and lock eyes with him. “Good thing I’m well above the legal age to fulfill such desires.” I move even closer, our mouths only a breath away, and whisper, “I want you to make that mistake again.”
His eyes study mine as if he sees through me. “What mistake is that?”
“The one where you kissed your wife.” His fingers weave into the hair at the nape of my neck moments before his mouth crashes into mine.
Goodbye, willpower. Hello, Warner!
CHAPTER 15
Warner
Sweet and spicy.
The first taste of Delaney is better than the expensive aged bourbon lingering on her lips. I shouldn’t have kissed her, even if she did ask, but now that I have, I want to keep doing it all night.
A little moan vibrates in her throat as soon as our mouths merge and our tongues touch. Caramel intermixes with a delicate hint of aged oak, making me want to delve deeper to taste every last drop of this stunner of a woman.
With one useless arm, I feel inept. One strap of her top slides down her arm, exposing the top of her perky breast, but my fingers fumble as I reach for the other strap, so I stop. Instead, I run the fingers of my casted arm gently against the length of her neck.
I pull back enough to see the want in her eyes and the frustration that our lips dared to part. Still so feisty. I drag my tongue over my bottom lip, wanting to savor what remains of her flavor. She was right about me. I have no patience, especially with her. Whether she’s talking bullshit, leaving a mess around my apartment, or looking like she does, I want her. “Get on the bed.”
Her back straightens stiff as an arrow, her tits still begging for attention under her shirt. So damn tempting to tease with my tongue if we don’t kill each other first. Settling her hands on my shoulders, she takes a deep breath while her shoulders fall on the exhale. “Should we be doing this?” Her measured, panting breaths jade the words.
“Why shouldn’t we? We’re married, remember?” Do I feel bad for pretending we’re married when I know we’re not? I lost touch with that emotion a long time ago in business. Personally, fighting fire with fire is the only way to win, and winning is an aphrodisiac. Even with my dick as hard as it is, it would be irresponsible of me to take what she’s giving and not give it back. Something’s on the line. I haven’t figured it out yet, but only an enemy would go to the lengths she has.
When I smile at her, it’s real. I’m beginning to appreciate her company in spite of the spirited streak of hate she holds for me. I can’t wait to watch her crumple under me. It will be the best orgasm of her life, and she’ll walk away knowing only her rival could make her feel that good. When she seems at a loss for words, I add, “Maybe you have a touch of amnesia as well.”
Her eyes follow one of her hands as it glides over my shoulders, dipping with the flow of my muscles, and then her gaze darts back to me. “No amnesia. That’s the problem. I remember it all too well.”
Her body is soft when I slip my hand under the lace of her short, silky top. The white against her skin makes her look even tanner, and the blue flowers dotting the fabric have me wanting to spend hours connecting each one underneath it. “Maybe the universe is giving us the accident to reconnect.”
She grins. “Nice thought, but I’d prefer the universe not try to kill you to bring us back together. Roses. Jewelry. A fancy dinner would have done the trick.” Laughter escapes her without her permission, even as she tries to shut it down so fast.