Thief of my Heart: A boss's daughter, bad boy romance by Nicole French

Author:Nicole French [French, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Raglan Publishing
Published: 2024-02-28T18:30:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

THAT CERTAINLY CHANGES EVERYTHING

Michael

We didn’t really talk much on the ferry ride back to Manhattan. Or on the 1 train that chugged up the length of the island. Or at Columbus Circle while we waited for the B-D line transfer. Or in the seat we found in the last train car all the way back to Fordham Heights, a subway stop much closer than the line we’d taken downtown.

She didn’t seem to notice. We were too busy communicating in…other ways.

Seriously, though. I hadn’t made out that intensely with a girl since Juliana de Soto’s birthday party in the eighth grade. There was something so pure about kissing and nothing more.

Not that I didn’t want to do a hell of a lot more. The problem with kissing Lea Zola was that once I started, I really couldn’t stop. The conversation, the sandwiches, hell, the damn ferry—it all had broken a dam deep inside me, and now something was flowing right into her, hot and fast.

She felt so damn good in my arms, warm and soft and welcoming to my touch. Her lips were more suckable than candy, and the slick of her tongue slipping around mine was a version of heaven I’d never even considered.

The girl was voracious. And, apparently, shameless, which suited me just fine. She didn’t care that we were in public places—she seemed to need me as much as I craved her.

Underneath the tough, prim face she showed the rest of the world was a vixen, a passionate creature I got the feeling was rarely let out. After our conversation tonight, I understood why. Suddenly, kissing her, holding her, giving in to the burning desire I felt for Lea Zola didn’t make me feel like a sinner but more like a savior.

Lea carried the damn world for nearly everyone in her family. She needed to let loose. Have a space to be free. Be a little bad, like most eighteen-year-olds should have a chance to be.

If I could keep her safe at the same time, maybe I was actually doing her a favor.

Or maybe that’s what I was telling myself so I could keep devouring that luscious mouth like it was the dessert I’d forgotten to bring.

“Approaching Fordham Road.”

The blare of the conductor’s voice through the blown-out speakers only partially registered in between kisses.

“Michael.”

She was lucky, really, that at that moment, I’d taken the opportunity to taste the delicate skin under her jaw. It allowed her to look up at the light board at the top of the train that informed us of the next stop.

“Michael.” Her fingers grabbed my hair at the base of my neck and tugged.

“Mmmph.”

She tasted like honey. Like a flower, with some mild perfume in her hair and on her skin. Something that reminded me of honeysuckles and lilies and some other flower I’d only ever seen at the New York Botanical Garden on a field trip when I was seven.

“Michael, this is our stop.”

With a harsh, tight breath, I managed to drag my lips from her skin.

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