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It started as a bet; now I don’t want to stop.
I was engaged once, and I learned my lesson. That’ll never happen again. Women come and go, but my bar is all I give a damn about. F*ck commitment. All I need is one night. It’s just for fun, and then it’s over.
Until she walked into my bar. My sweetheart.
Gorgeous from head to toe, she’s a woman who knows exactly what she wants. The whole nine yards, complete with a picket fence… not a southern bartender with commitment issues.
Maybe it was the challenge that drew me to her… maybe it was something else.
It was harmless flirting at first. Then it turned into a drunken deal.
Every day we get closer to the wedding, it’s harder and harder to deny what I’m feeling.
She never told me what she wanted in return. I know what she’s desperate for though, a baby. A family to call her own.
I’m not ready to settle down, but damn I want to hold on to her for just a little longer.
**Knocking Boots is a full-length standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
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Grace’s soft voice beckons me from across the hotel room as I shut the door. I pull at the knot in my necktie, loosening it before tossing it on the floor. I can barely see through the dim light as she scissors her legs under the stark white hotel comforter.
I can hardly believe she wants me so much. And what’s more, they all think she’s mine. Every one of those guests at my sister’s wedding thinks Grace belongs to me. Then again, the whole damn town is convinced she’s the next one to get hitched.
They’re right about one thing. She’ll be screaming my name tonight. But the rest is all a lie.
“Don’t make me wait anymore…” she pleads.
Grace’s slender neck arches as she grips the comforter in her hands and groans out her words with a little pout on her lush lips.
I’ve got her so worked up, my little sweetheart. But that wasn’t hard to do. I knew she wanted me. She doesn’t want to keep me though; she just wants me for the night. Tonight, she’s all mine.
Grace isn’t the kind of girl who winds up with a man like me. She’s got her life planned out. She wants the whole nine yards, and in less than a year.
She wants a picture-perfect family and a white picket fence, but that’s not a life I’m ready for. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
I can see Grace wearing a white dress. A wedding dress. I bet she’d wear one of those big ass gowns. I can just see how the dress would move around her long, shapely legs.
The thought of her walking down the aisle to someone else, a man other than myself, pisses me off. I feel the anger rising, heating my blood just thinking about it. But there’s no way in hell I’ll be the man she’s walking toward. We both know that. I have Grace for tonight, and that’s all that matters.
This was a drunken deal we made. Our flirtatious natures, getting out of hand. She promised to come to the wedding and pretend to be my girlfriend, to keep my family off my back.
I slip off my shirt, and start undoing my belt. She turns onto her side and looks at me through her long lashes, her eyes shining with lust.
“I want you, Charlie.”
Fuck. I can’t take her whispering my name like that. Like just the taste of my name on her lips is all she needs to cum.
Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Maybe all this is in my head, because I want to think that hooking up somehow means more to her now.
It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious.
It was just a date. Just a release. All of this was only for fun.
And I know after tonight, she’ll be long gone.
As the bed groans with my weight and I bend down to kiss the soft, tender skin on the tender side of her neck, I can’t help thinking she feels so right. So perfect in my arms.
I pull back the comforter, revealing the lacy negligee she’s wearing, and watch a beautiful pink blush travel up her chest and into her cheeks.
“What’s this?” I ask her with a cocked brow. My dick twitches with the need to get that lingerie off of her and onto the floor. I want what’s underneath.
She bites down on her bottom lip. She tries to throw back one of those smart ass responses she’s always got for me, but my lips are on hers before she gets a single word out.
Her fingers spear into my hair and she deepens the kiss, wrapping her legs around my hips. She moans into my mouth.
This is dangerous. I’m fucking addicted. I swear, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
But as I stare down at her beautiful face, her lips parted and her gorgeous baby blues half-lidded, I know this isn’t just a good time anymore.
I’m not the type of man she wants. We both know that. I don’t have what it takes to keep her.
But damn… I want to.
“It’s not the worst news, but I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. Honestly though, Grace, there are tons of options when you start looking at freezing some of your eggs,” Dr. Abrahams tells me. She smiles at me, brushing a strand of gray hair behind her ear.
I look up at the wall behind her, which is plastered with pictures of a thousand babies that Dr. Abrahams has helped other women conceive. The photos are framed with pink and blue paper and look festive. I should be more thankful; she’s just told me my eggs are still viable, after all. But she’s given me news that a woman at my age shouldn’t be getting. Premenopausal isn’t a word I ever thought I’d hear so soon.