A Little Too Close by Rebecca Yarros

Author:Rebecca Yarros [Yarros, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub

I leaned up against the kitchen island in what I hoped was a seductive pose and watched the door. It was five thirty, Sutton was already at Betty’s, and I’d just heard Weston’s truck pull into our driveway.

My pulse leapt. There wasn’t exactly an extensive collection of lingerie at my disposal, but I did have a soft spot for pretty, matching underwear sets, so I’d put on my favorite lavender one and hoped he’d like it.

Fine, I more than hoped. I sent up a prayer to whatever God had made a man as utterly indescribable as Weston. If I only got to have this man once, then I wanted him as completely lost for me as I was for him.

Now I just had to hope that the silk robe Ava had given me for Christmas two years ago was enough to cut through whatever awkwardness there might be after I’d pretty much told him this morning that tonight was the night.

His footsteps sounded outside the door, and I swallowed the knot of anticipation in my throat.

I’d had all day to think about the things I wanted to do to him—the things I wanted him to do to me. I felt like a thoroughbred racehorse, just waiting to be let out of the stall, warmed up and ready to be—

Okay, that was enough horse analogies.

The door handle turned and a stab of anxiety tightened my stomach. Had I forgotten anything? I’d shaved my legs. Washed my hair. I’d even taken off an hour early so I could paint my toenails.

What if he had changed his mind? What if he took one look at me and laughed about me trying too hard. Shit. Was I trying too hard?

The door opened and Weston walked in, a blustery wave of snow following before he shut the door. Guess the storm had started. He turned, taking off his hat and unzipping his coat while juggling a bottle of wine.

He froze the second he saw me.

His hat fluttered to the tile entry.

Our eyes met across the room and his jaw dropped, then snapped shut and clenched as his gaze raked over me from the top of my head to the tips of my painted toes. The heat there was unmistakable, making my thighs clench.

“I thought you might want to order dinner.” His coat hit the floor as he walked toward me.

I shook my head.

“Wine?” He lifted the bottle.

“Nope.”

He set it on the dining room table and kept coming. “Anything you do want?”

“Just you.” I reached for the belt holding my robe together, but he was already against me, his hands sweeping down my back to grab my ass as he kissed me.

His tongue stroked into my mouth, and I whimpered. He tasted like mint and Weston. My arms wound around his neck, and he lifted me to the counter, setting me at the edge. My thighs parted. He moved between them, the rough denim abrading the sensitive skin of my inner thighs with delicious friction.

“I like you like this.

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