The Boy with the Bookstore by Sarah Echavarre Smith

Author:Sarah Echavarre Smith [Smith, Sarah Echavarre]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Joelle

When I tease Max’s lips open with my tongue, he smiles against my mouth. A low grunt rips from his throat as he cups his hands over my cheeks. His fingers thread slowly, gently through my hair.

His tongue gets firmer and filthier as the seconds pass. And then he backs off, going smooth and teasing and slow once more. It’s a slow build of sensation and damn, do I like it. No one’s ever touched me like this before. The change in rhythm makes my chest and thighs tingle, it sends the most delicious ache to my core and builds and builds and builds until I’m panting even harder.

And we’re just kissing.

My head spins, and I tug my hands through his thick hair. He grunts against my lips.

I pull away, breaking the kiss. “Oh! Sorry! Was that too hard?”

His pupils are bigger than I’ve ever seen, even bigger than when I was grinding on his lap and kissing him like it was the end of the world.

“Not at all. I love it when you pull my hair.”

We both smile and I tug his hair harder before pulling his mouth to mine once more.

Soon I’m clawing at his shirt, desperate to see once again what’s underneath.

I’m slipping my hands underneath the fabric and up his muscled stomach when he gently wraps his hands around my wrists and stills me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He shakes his head, smiling slightly. “Nothing, I just . . . I don’t want to do this in front of an audience, you know?”

He nods to Muffin, who’s snoozing next to me. And then I see Doughnut perched on the arm of the nearby armchair, aiming a sleepy yet also judgmental stare at us.

I laugh. “Oh, right. Agreed.” I turn back to Max. “Can we move this somewhere more private? Like, a room with a door?”

I bite my lip at how dopey I sound. But judging by the grin on Max’s face, he’s not one bit bothered by my phrasing.

“You’re insanely cute, you know that?”

I scrunch my nose before unleashing a relieved smile as Max stands and reaches his hand out to me. He leads me down the hallway to what I assume is his bedroom.

“Cozy,” I say as I take in the king-size bed covered in a plush white comforter.

“Sorry the bed’s not made. I wasn’t really expecting company.”

I turn to face him, press my palms against his midsection, and try not to moan at how divinely hard his body feels.

“It’s okay,” I say. “If everything goes to plan, your bed will be a lot messier than this.”

My eyes bulge the slightest bit when I hear what I’ve said.

Thanks, whiskey, for lowering my inhibitions enough to say something I’d never say sober.

But Max doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, judging by his wide grin and the way he scoops me into his arms, he’s totally into it. I squeal, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. The squeaky noise I make is cut off by his mouth on mine.

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