Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
"No."
"Fine."
The world spins again before righting itself. But it's not in the order I want because I'm not marching toward the vineyard and away from him. Oh no. I'm on the hood of my car with him looming over me like a hot, pissed off vintner, and my legs are splayed around his hips. He can probably see my panties.
Before I can push him away or say anything, he swoops. His hand tangles in my hair. His lips crash against mine. He grunts like I'm the best thing he's tasted in years, his tongue flicking at the seam of my lips.
"Let me in, baby," he demands, his voice a gritty rasp.
I mean to tell him no. I want to push him away and slap the taste from his lying mouth. But I don't. I'm too fucking weak for him still. I whimper instead…and I kiss him back.
His greedy growl is almost worth the pain I know I'll feel later. His taste is, too. It's brandy and mint, and it's so fucking good.
He yanks me closer to him, his chest vibrating, his body shaking. He's wild as he kisses me like he's dying to do it, like he can't stop himself.
And I kiss him back the same way. Because I am dying for it. I've been dying for it for three damn years already. Time hasn't changed that. Distance hasn't. Nothing I've said to myself or to him has changed a damn thing for me. He's still it for me, just like he was at Lucy's wedding. Just like he was when I slipped my hand into his pants and begged him to make love to me.
"Goddamn, I didn't get it right," he groans, licking into my mouth like he's trying to taste my soul. "There is no recreating this."
I have no idea what he's talking about, and he doesn't give me time to ask.
"I've missed this hot little mouth, Paisley. So fucking much." His hand runs down my body, setting fires and causing landslides. Earthquakes ripple out from my soul, swallowing entire tracts of my being with every heated touch.
And it's not nearly enough. I want him all over me, stamped into my skin like a brand.
"Ridley," I whimper. "Please."
His hand slips beneath my skirt, his fingers trailing up my bare thigh. I gasp into his mouth, spreading my legs for him, silently begging him to go higher, to touch me where I need it most.
His thumb presses against my clit through my panties, and I nearly unravel right there for him. "Does this pretty little pussy miss me, baby?"
"Ridley, please." I'm not even sure what I'm asking for right now. I just know I need it.
He grinds his thumb against me, his eyes locked on my face. "I'm not going to stop until you come all over my fucking hand, Dimples."
Well, thank God for tha–
A horn blares behind us, ripping me from his arms.
I scramble across the hood of the car, my face blazing with heat.
"Fuck," Ridley growls, whipping his head up to glower as his cousin, Gabe, drives by, waving. The smile stretched across Gabe's face says he knows damn well what he just interrupted.
Oh god. Oh, my freaking god.
I slide off the hood of the car onto trembling legs.
"Paisley, baby…"
"Don't," I rasp with a sharp shake of my head. "Just don't, Ridley."
I stumble toward his truck without another word. What am I supposed to say? If Gabe hadn't driven by, I wouldn't have stopped him. I would have begged him to keep going. And when it was over… Well, I don't even want to think about that.
"Motherfucker," Ridley mutters from behind me like he's having the same thoughts I am.
I haul myself into the passenger seat of his truck and then curl up, clinging to my purse like it's the only thing rooting me to earth. He stands in front of my car for a long moment, his head hanging low between his shoulders, before he sighs and jogs toward the truck.
He doesn't say anything as he starts the truck, but he doesn't drive off, either. Instead, he grips the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. "Are you still with your man, Dimples?" The question is low, intense…and confusing as hell.
I turn my head, looking at him. "What man?"
"The prick in the military."
I furrow my brows, confusion running through me. "First, you accuse me of sleeping with your cousins and your employees. Now, it's some guy in the military?" I shake my head at him. "Do you want to add anyone else to the list? The Pope? Santa Claus, perhaps?"
"I saw you with him," he says quietly.
"What are you talking about?" I cry.
"The day you left here." He swallows hard, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. "You were with him."
I gape at him, not sure what he's talking about. Maybe he lost his mind while he was in Italy. It'd certainly explain a lot.