Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
When soft feet shuffle on hardwood, I push all thoughts of Sawyer aside. Juliet appears in the kitchen, wearing a long T-shirt that hits at her thighs. She’s yawning and making my heart thump harder from a goddamn yawn.
Fuck, she’s cute in the morning. I toss the phone on the counter, not giving a shit that it slides to the corner.
“Hey,” she says, a little morning gravelly.
I didn’t know she sounded like that in the morning. I tuck that into the ever-expanding Juliet file.
“Hey.”
She tips her chin toward the coffee maker. “You made coffee. You are a hero.”
“It’s awful. I should be outlawed from making coffee again.”
“That bad?”
“So bad I should go out and get you coffee right now if you want some,” I offer, and I’m ready to go. All she has to do is say the word.
But she shakes her head. “I can do tea instead. I bet Eleanor has tea.” Juliet heads to the cupboards and hunts around for a box. I can’t stop watching her. The way she lifts her arm. How her heart necklace catches the light of the sun. How her T-shirt rides up to reveal she’s not wearing any undies.
“You’re naked,” I grunt, stating the obvious.
She gives me a look like I’ve earned a cookie. “Yes, and the sky is blue.”
But her tone doesn’t deter me. I close the distance between us, crowding her from behind, pushing her hair off her shoulder, and dropping a morning kiss to her inviting neck—a slow, lingering one I don’t want to ever end.
She murmurs, then leans back against me, her ass pressed to my groin, her back to my chest. “Monroe,” she says.
“Yes?” I ask, utterly distracted by her neck.
“What are we doing?”
It’s an icy dose of reality. I let go as she spins around, facing me. We didn’t have the talk last night. We just crashed post-sex. This conversation was inevitable, though, and necessary. I run a hand through my hair, figuring out what to say. Let’s do it again sounds crass. Let’s fuck for the week even crasser. But the truth? You’re under my skin—that’s even worse.
I can’t tell this bold, brave woman who’s ready to find the one that I’m a little obsessed with her.
“What do you want to do?” If I had a shrink, they’d smack me. Well, no. My fictional shrink would give me the you took the coward’s way out look, which is even worse.
Juliet’s unreadable for a moment. That’s rare for a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve. Then, her lips curve up. “I mean, I’d really like to summon Jumanji again.”
I laugh, and it feels like it comes from the center of my soul. I reach for her, tug her against me, then cup her cheeks. “So what you’re saying is sex with me is better than music.”
She shrugs. “Some music.”
“Woman,” I say sternly.
“Well, I haven’t heard all your songs,” she says, then wiggles an eyebrow.
“Then, let me introduce you to my favorite one.” I scoop her up, carry her out of the kitchen, and bring her straight to the rose chaise lounge in the den. I set her down on it, then move to the end of it. “This is what I wanted to do when you were picking through potential dates yesterday.”
I don’t give her a second to respond. I just push up her T-shirt to her waist and spread those beautiful thighs apart, groaning at the glistening reward of her pussy.
“You’re already wet,” I rasp out.
“And what are you going to do about it?” she counters.
“Enjoy my favorite breakfast,” I say, then I dip my face to her sweet, hot center, kissing my Juliet in the morning.
Her taste goes to my head. So do her sounds, soft and greedy. Little yeses and mores. I take those words, and I heed them, lapping up her wetness, flicking my tongue across her swollen clit, bringing her closer to my hungry mouth.
Soon, she’s moaning, and I’m moaning, too, as I devour this beauty who parts her legs wide for me, who rakes her hands through my hair, who rocks her hips against my face. Who gives herself completely to me as she cries out then orgasms on my mouth.
I kiss her slowly as she comes down from her climax, then stop when she opens her eyes and meets my gaze. “Better than coffee,” she announces.
“But better than music?”
“Like I said, some songs.”
She reaches for me and pulls me close, offering me her mouth. That’s just…hot. She doesn’t hesitate. She kisses me while I taste like her, and for some stupid fucking reason, that makes my chest warm up even more.
When she lets go, she says, “We work together.”
She’s answering the question for me. She’s always been braver than I am.
I rein in a wince. “I know.”
“You’re not looking for a girlfriend,” she says.