Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Good morning, Dove.” I give her a half smile while I hand her the coffee and watch those cheeks of hers go pink. My dirty mind starts whispering to me, wondering if her nipples are the same shade.
She lowers her lashes as she takes a sip and I wonder for the thousandth time, how the fuck am I going to leave here without her?
Chapter Three
Dove
I sip the coffee slowly, taking a moment to try and get myself under control. Every time I see him it's like a rush of adrenaline. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. When I pull the cup away from my mouth I glance back at him, and the smile is gone. His face is unreadable, so I stare into his dark eyes wondering what he’s thinking, hoping he feels even a little bit of what I feel for him. He has to, right? He buys me coffee and goes out of his way to make small talk. There has to be something there, or otherwise why would he bother?
His hand comes up and he brushes his thumb across my lips. I inhale softly as the touch shoots through every vein of my body. He’s soft and tender, and when his thumb falls away, I lick the place he touched, wanting to taste him. But all I can taste is coffee. Then I glance at his thumb and see whip cream on it. He was wiping it away for me.
"Thank you," I mumble as embarrassment washes over me. The blush comes back and I feel like a dork.
Slowly, as if he’s deliberately trying to make my panties explode, he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks the cream from it. My heart pounds and I feel a tingle between my legs. How can something so simple make me react like this?
"Sweet." His voice is deep and rumbles from his chest. For some reason it feels as if he's not talking about the whip cream.
"Anything against that black coffee is going to be sweet." My eyes drop to his broad chest. Today he has on a deep blue tie and dark gray suit.
"Maybe I should taste more of what you have." He takes a step toward me, closing the small amount of space that’s between us. His warm scent surrounds me and I wonder if it's him or a cologne. He’s so close and he’s so big that I barely come up to the middle of his broad chest.
A wave of heat rolls down my own chest, past my stomach and between my thighs. I clench them together, trying to find relief, but all I can do is gasp for air as he towers over me. He leans down so slowly that I think he is going to kiss me, but he stops before his lips meet mine. My heart is pounding in my ears as everything around me fades away. Everything dulls except for awareness at how close Beau is to my body.
"Why haven't you called me?" His tone is stern and a little admonishing. I don't even notice I'm leaning up and trying to get my mouth closer to his. Something about his voice makes me want to be closer to him. I like it. I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but then I feel his hand on my hip. He stops me from getting closer to him, stops me from moving. His fingers dig into me as he grips me in a firm hold. "Not here."
"What?" I ask, lost in a lusty haze. I’m dying at the feel of his hand on me. He’s so close and everything in me is screaming at him to put his lips on mine. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
"Jesus. I never imagined you could be so adorable and fuckable all at once," he growls. His fingers flex against me as if he doesn't want to let me go.
"You think I'm sexy?" It's the only part I’m able to process.
Beau takes a step back from me, releasing my hip. I miss his touch immediately and want to follow his retreat. He glances around, then suddenly I blink, remembering we are in a public place. I look around to see that the coffee shop is busy and some people are staring at us.
He runs his hand through his wavy black hair, making it messy. I bite my lip, wondering what I’ve done to make him so agitated. He’s clearly upset and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve just made a fool of myself.
"You haven't called me," he says again, his tone accusatory.
"Call you?" How on earth could I call him? I don't have his number.
"I've given you my number multiple times now."
I shake my head, but he sighs and points to my cup. I glance down at it, and I gasp in shock. On the side of it is his name in bold with a phone number underneath it. I’m such an idiot.