Two Wrongs Make a Right (The Wilmot Sisters #1)

by Chloe Liese

Bea wipes away my fears as she curls her hand around my neck, guiding me down for a kiss. She flashes a bright smile as our mouths part. “All I wanted was revenge,” she says softly, her hand settled over my heart. “And now all I want is you.”

“Wait,” she says, wrenching her mouth from mine. “Honk, please,” she tells the driver, rolling down the window and yelling out of it, “Smell ya later, assholes!” Laughing, I throw an arm out, middle finger high in the air.

When I turn the corner, I’m nearly incapacitated by the glorious sight that is Jamie Westenberg’s ass in sweatpants, tight and round, stretching the material as he crouches down and rummages through a lower cabinet. Flabbergasted, I trip over my own feet, right into the counter.

The absurdity of that sentence. I’ve seen what those navy-blue joggers do to his bounce-a-quarter-off-it ass, and now I see how they hug his long legs and the muscles of his thighs. His sweatshirt is a heather-gray crewneck with i my cats in bold font across the chest, perfectly pushed up to reveal his forearms. What’s worse, he’s oblivious. He has no clue how obscene this all is.

She tips her head, examining me as I examine her. “What is it?” “Just . . . watching you,” I tell her. Her smile deepens. “Why?” “Because you’re beautiful. And I want to.”

“I’m going to kiss you if you don’t stop saying things like that.” “That is not a disincentive, James.”

want to see that tattoo, Jamie.” I smile against her kiss, and then I hoist us upright. Bea yelps in surprise, holding on to my shoulders until I reach behind my head, dragging off my sweatshirt but leaving a T-shirt beneath. Bea scowls. “That was a cheap trick.”

“All I’ve been thinking about is having this with you,” he whispers against my mouth. “I can barely function. I’ve been so distracted, I walked into a wall.”

LOL

“What is it, sweetheart?” he says quietly, his fingertips slipping beneath my pants’ waistband.

Sweetheart has to be my favorite term of endearment.

His tongue dances with mine in a sensual rhythm that feels like the way we’ve waltzed—dizzying and fast and just enough clumsy to feel human and safe and real.

His eyes darken. “Spending a good long while between your thighs is my idea of heaven.”

*In Paris Hilton voice* That's hot

“I’m going to spare you statistics of the average time a woman requires to build to orgasm. Both because doctor mode is a mood-kill and because you don’t need a man telling you about your own body.”

“With us, there’s no long or short. There’s what your body needs, and mine. No one gets to say otherwise.” Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I nod quickly. Jamie’s jaw tics. “Whoever made you feel that way, they’re not here. It’s me. And you. All right? Just us.”

Bea presses a kiss to my bare chest and breathes in deeply. “Are you inhaling me, Beatrice?”

But Jamie’s smiling, his eyes dancing in a way they weren’t just a moment ago. He nudges my pincer out of the way, then kisses me, sliding his nose along mine. “You want my babies,” he whispers. He sounds annoyingly arrogant and so perfectly vulnerable. I want to tickle him until he shrieks, then kiss him some more.

“I’m not twisting them, I’m making a point. You’re saying you can’t be with me because of something someone else did?”

Exactly Jamie, THIS IS STUPID.

But we’ve learned it’s the things that went unsaid, rather than the things we did say, that have hurt the most over the years.

Our bodies collide, and my heart clatters like bowling pins with the strike of our kiss. It’s a never forget this kiss. A best kiss of my life kiss. An I always want to kiss only you kiss.

I love you. That I want to kiss you when no one’s watching and paint you for my eyes only. That I want to cuddle under my weighted blanket and watch snow fall and laugh about the weirdest things. Because you are exquisitely precious to me. You are everything I want, just as you are, no conditions or clauses, no end date or revenge, just you.”

He smiles up at me, still shirtless, hair mussed, glistening with sweat, a flush on his cheeks. A portrait I’ll paint titled Satisfied.

Jamie smiles and holds me close, heart to heart. His kisses whisper love. His arms are home.