Page 67 of Meet Hate Love
“You miss her?”
“Of course. After my dad passed away, she and my grandad raised me. She makes the best fried chicken. Very Alabama. I’ll take you back home with me sometime so you can taste it.”
That… that sounded serious. Beat by beat, my heart rate ticked up as we continued along the sidewalk, past leather shops and pizzerias. We’d gone from enemies to lovers in a matter of days. Although I had known him for half a year. I bit the inside of my cheek as we sank to the concrete edge of the fountain. Because I was trying to rationalize every bit of this insanity. So what if it crashed and burned once we got back to New York? At the very least, when I got older, I’d have a great story to regale the other gray-haired ladies within the nursing home. That one time in Europe…
It sounded simple enough. The problem was, the heart was a fickle, traitorous little bastard, and I was pretty sure mine had already signed up for a possible lifelong contract. Shit. I was not ready for this. I was so not ready to have my heart broken again.
“What are we doing, Vance?” I asked.
A line sank between his dark brows. One hand dove into his pants pocket. His body language screamed uncertainty, and that was when I realized I should have “gone with it.” If this was nothing to him, it was already going to hurt.
I redirected my attention to the concrete, dragging the toe of my sandal along one of the dirt-filled cracks. If I could have clicked my heels together three times and had the ground swallow me up, I would have.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asked.
The uneven rhythm of my heart skipped a few beats when I turned to face him. DidIbelieve in fate? Bad luck was part of fate. Which meant I had no choice but to believe in it. “Yes...”
“Then we don’t really have a choice of what we’re doing, do we?”
ChapterTwenty
VANCE
We’d been in Rome for three days, and it hadn’t stopped raining since day one. Flood waters covered the cobblestone streets outside of the hotel. Every attraction we’d had tickets to was closed. Blake had sworn we’d unleashed some curse from fucking in a “holy” restroom… Curse or not. I didn’t care. Because, thanks to the torrential downpour, Blake and I hadn’t left the hotel except to grab condoms and food. Which meant all we’d done was…
“Fuck! Vance!”
Thunder rattled the hotel windows as I swiped my tongue over her pussy. Her legs jerked. Her hips bucked.
“Oh, God.” She fisted my hair, tugging and pulling until I was pretty sure she’d ripped out a patch. “You’ve got to…” she took a heavy breath. “Stop!”
The problem was, I didn’t want to. I loved eating her pussy. I loved watching her come undone, swearing and pounding her fists on the mattress while she’d beg me to stop.
“Don’t tell me three orgasms in a row is your hard limit?” I sucked her swollen clit back inside my mouth, and her legs trembled.
“Don’t make me mule kick you again.”
Chuckling under my breath, I kissed my way up her bare thigh. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would.”
I peppered kisses across her stomach. “I’ll give you half an hour, then I’m fucking you again.” I’d never been so insatiable with a woman in my life.
“Wrong.” She rolled out from beneath me, grabbed the box of condoms from the nightstand, and turned it upside down. Nothing fell out. “We’re out. Again.”
Wind howled around the building. Rain pelted the window just before a bright flash of lightning lit up the room.
“I’ll risk getting struck by lightning to grab some more.”
“I couldn’t handle another orgasm if I wanted to.” Blake flipped over the box, her gaze sweeping the print like she was attempting to read Italian. “I’m curious if a woman has ever died from too many orgasms.”
“You’re looking for a disclaimer?” Like a condom manufacturer could be held liable if someone passed on from one too many climaxes.
“No. I was trying to see if I could guess what any of those words mean.”
“Where did the ‘death by way of orgasm’ come from then?”
“Because, based on the uneven rhythm of my heart and my inability to see straight, I fear it’s an all too likely scenario.”
