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I can’t be near you for a second longer without taking you to my bed and screwing you until you’re screaming my name.
her tight ass in those tiny shorts teasing me as she goes.
Has she looked this gorgeous all day? I make my way toward her and place a hand on the small of her back, glaring at the young bartender like an animal claiming its prey. It’s undeniably territorial, even though I know I have no right to behave like that. That’s how men with girlfriends, fiancées and wives behave. It’s not how men like me behave. Women are never around long enough for me to be territorial. And that’s how I like it. How it needs to be.
‘A girl can have roots and wings.’
Her words make me pause, my hand holding my bottle midway between the bar and my mouth. I’m familiar with those words. Very familiar.
She bites her bottom lip, and it takes every ounce of willpower in my body not to lean forward and ...
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She’s laughing again. Heartily this time. It warms me from the inside out.
Being around her makes me feel good.
Becky isn’t normal. She’s far from normal. There isn’t a stereotype I could fit her into. She breaks every mold. She’s smart, funny, incredible looking. And there’s no pretense with her. That’s definitely uncommon in the city.
I think you like her. And I think you’re afraid because you’ve never really allowed yourself to like anyone before.’
I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m punishing myself by eating until I become the size of a house.
Even the size of a house, I think she’d still be attractive.
She looks completely confused and downright adorable.
Up here, high above the city, with her, with a killer cheesecake, I don’t have a care in the world. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.
The saxophone is nice, for sure. But what is truly beautiful is her skin, glowing under the twinkling city lights, her long hair flowing down her back. While her eyes are closed, I let myself indulge in the sight of her. The way her bottom lip is more plump than the top and begging to be nipped between my teeth.
I want to keep her talking and letting me in. For some reason, I want to understand this woman.
Believe me, I know you’re not a one-night-stand kind of girl.’
I like spending time with you, Becky. You make things… better, somehow too. So, what do you say we hang out sometimes and we don’t worry about the stuff that makes life complicated?’
I’ve never given serious thought to whether I want kids. I love my niece and nephew, but I’ve always had bigger things happening. I’ve never seen myself taking the step that comes first: the getting-a-wife part. But the scary as hell thing is, I’m looking into the eyes of this woman I hardly know, and for the first time ever, I can imagine it all. The house in the suburbs, children in the yard, lazy Sundays with my family. I can see my unborn child in her arms. And it scares me to death.
My arms are aching by my sides because I want to take her cheeks in my palms and press my lips against hers so damn much.
‘You’ll be the death of me,’
The wind blows her hair back from her shoulders as she takes in the surroundings. I take in her. Only her.
I notice goosebumps on her bare shoulder and take off my jacket to wrap it around her. When she opens her mouth to protest, I place a finger over her lips. I freeze at the softness of her skin. She seems to be locked in this moment with me, until she opens her mouth wide and bites down on my fingertip, taking me by surprise.
I’ve missed her; I just didn’t appreciate how much until this very moment. No amount of Skype calls can replace the familiarity of her hold.
We share the briefest moment, and in it, I love that she knows something about me that no one else does.
Becky’s opinion matters to me. I realize it matters a lot, and I’m worried what it might be.
She’s so damn beautiful when she laughs.
How does this woman see through me like my skin is made of glass?
God, everything about this woman is good. So much better than me.
Her gaze drops to my lips, my own eyes falling to hers. I want to kiss her. Every bone in my body wants me to press my lips to hers. To feel that soft, plump flesh.
She shuffles an inch so her shoulder is pressed to my arm. I have no idea whether it’s an intentional move, but her touch warms me, even through my shirt.
In this moment, I’d wish I could give you more than one night. I’d wish you weren’t running from a long-term relationship. I’d wish that we could spend one night together and still be friends the next day.
‘Come here.’
Without hesitation, she climbs onto my seat and nestles her head in my shoulder. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the night sky. Maybe it’s being here that brings home how lonely the city can be sometimes. Whatever the reason, I’m more than happy to have Becky in my arms.
Knowing she’s asleep, I don’t fight the urge to press my mouth to her skin. I hold her tighter and bring my lips to her temple.
The problem is, I’m starting to think the risk of losing her is worse than the possibility of being distracted by her.
I nip Becky’s hip in my hand until she gives me her attention.
I’m sitting with this friend, who I brought home to my family, and I’ve held her in my lap as she slept all night.
I feel like I’ve known her all my life. Yet there’s still so much I don’t know. So much I want to know.
‘She makes you happy.’
how much I am trying to fight what I’m starting to feel for the blonde from the bagel truck.
‘Another thing off your list. What happens when there’s nothing left?’
‘I guess I’ll have to find another reason to make you stick around.’
As she laughs, my cell phone rings in the inside pocket of my jacket. I take it out but don’t recognize the number. I should answer. But for the first time since I can remember, there’s something more important. I silence the call and put the phone back in my pocket.
my mind wandering to Becky’s naked body under the hot water. I’d bet she looks hot naked. That ass. What I’d give to put my hands on that fine behind.
Becky is standing with wet hair, covered only in a towel, which really doesn’t cover much of her at all. My eyes refuse to stay on her face, and my already semi-hard Prince Harrington jolts as I trace a line from her lips, across her bare chest, around her towel-covered hips, down those toned legs. I’ve never been more thankful for the heavy hold of denim around my fly.
God, how I’d like to get wet in the shower with her and give her hair a reason to be messed up.
she looks fresh and young… …and extremely bed-able. Ah, British Becky, you are torturing me.
I put a bottle down on the counter and run my thumb over the batter. Her lips part again as she watches me suck it from my thumb.
I’ve known her five minutes. We’re friends. Yet, I can’t stand the thought of my life without her in it.
