Page 109 of The Overtime Kiss

Tyler

When I walk into the kitchen, Sabrina is standing in front of the fridge, music playing—Amelia Stone’s newest album. There’s an excited look in her eyes. I texted her that I’d be home soon.

“You’re wearing my favorite color,” I say, eyeing the sky-blue top she has on. She’s also playing one of my favorite singers, but I keep that little detail to myself for some reason. Maybe to focus on her.

“Oh, is it?” she asks.

“It sure is. It’s the color of your eyes,” I say, advancing toward her.

“You like it on me?” she teases.

“So much,” I murmur.

She waggles a little red book at me.

I furrow my brow. “What’s that?”

“A sex diary,” she says.

She just getsbetter and better.

“Does it say, ‘Dear Diary, Tyler Falcon fucked my brains out tonight?’”

“Yes,” she says. “And you got five stars.”

My heart does a little jig. That’s so her. And I fucking love it.

I love it so much, I close the distance between us, grab her face, and haul her in for a hot, scorching kiss that fries my brain. I kiss her deeply, savoring the sweet lip gloss taste of her mouth, the sexy sigh she makes, and the way she melts into me, her body pressed to mine.

I devour her, needing all of her as the kiss rockets through my cells. My head is a haze of orange blossoms and the woman I want.

When I let go, she steadies herself against the counter, blinking as a shudder wracks her body, like an aftershock.

“Wow,” she breathes. “That was a five-star kiss.”

“They all are with you.” I shake my head, amazed I lasted over two weeks without having her in my bed. “I deserve a fucking medal for my restraint. I missed you.”

Her smile is bright and beautiful. “But I’ve been right here the whole time.”

I close the distance between us again, threading my fingers through her soft, shiny hair. “I know. And I still missed you.”

Then I show her just how much. Kissing her again, grabbing her ass, hooking her legs around my waist.

I want to haul her up onto the counter, get down on my knees and eat her, then finger her, then fuck her.

But she said she wanted to surprise me, and she’s calling the shots.

So I let go and ask, “What’ll it be tonight?”

She spins around, yanks open the freezer, and takes out the Popsicles she asked me to buy last week. I’d be lying if Isaid the shape of the dessert hadn’t crossed my mind, and what that might mean. But I didn’t want to assume.

She takes one out, meets my gaze, and says, “I want you to coach me.”

My brain pops. My cock thickens to steel in my jeans.

It didn’t take a genius to figure blow jobs were on the list tonight when she grabbed the box. But I didn’t expect those words. The earnestness in her voice. The hope in her tone. The want in her eyes.

“I will. Under one condition.”

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