Page 27 of Better Not Pout
I chuckle, the sound deep as it vibrates in my chest, my palm finding the dip in her waist just beneath her jacket and curving around her soft stomach.
Fuck, this woman and her curves. I love them. I want to explore every inch, every dip, every single curve.
“When I first met you, I thought you were fucking fiery. All sassy and mouthy. But everything around you is so goddamn sweet. From the candy at your shop to your cup of sugar coffee from Frosty’s. I thought there was no way that everything you touched was so sweet, yet you were the total, complete opposite.”
Just below her ear, I brush my lips along her soft skin, and she shivers, fingers fisting into the front of my shirt as I continue. “But I’m starting to realize just how wrong I am about you. Now, all I want is to find out if you taste as sweet as I’ve imagined, Rosalie Sullivan.”
Pulling back, I stare down at her, cataloging the audible hitch of her breath and how she drags the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip like now she’s imagining it too.
When my lips touch hers, a trembling sigh pushes past her lips as she winds her fingers tightly into the fabric of my shirt.
Her lips move against mine, soft and sweet, hesitant at first. But when I slide my hands along her jaw, holding her in my palms, her lips part, and I sweep my tongue through her waiting lips, tasting her for the very first time.
It’s fucking indescribable. The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.
Everything around us drowns out. The bar, my brother, and all of the noise from my crew fade away, leaving just the two of us.
I remind myself that it’s all for show. This is exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.
Faking it.
But as I’m kissing my fake girlfriend in the middle of my barely renovated bar, it feels like the most right thing I’ve ever done.
Like all of the shit that I’ve been through in the last couple of years has led me straight here.
Straight toher.
A breathless whimper falls from her lips, and I swallow it up, sweeping the pad of my thumb along her soft, smooth skin. I want more of this, more of those little sounds she’s making, but next time, I want it with my head buried between her legs.
The kiss was meant to be a quick performance since my brother is across the room. But it morphed into something different before I could even wrap my head around it. Before I could even part my lips from hers.
When she pulls back, her eyes are hazy and unfocused, a dreamy smile sitting on her lips, and my chest swells with pride.
She looks like she just got the fuck kissed out of her.
Even more so… Rosalie Sullivan looks likemine.
Even if it’s only for now.
eleven
. . .
Rosalie
A Little Extra Mistletoe Magic
I can still feelthe heat of Wells’ lips on mine from the kiss that has been on a constant replay in my mind since yesterday.
Still feel the roughness of his palm along my neck, his thumb sweeping across my pulse, the way he tasted, the way he smelled.
This is bad.
Really bad.
Tonight is our first “official” fake date outing in town, I guess if you don’t count the unexpected moment with his brother at the bar yesterday, and I’m feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement at the same time.
I realize that I probably shouldn’t be so excited to pretend with him. But the kissing, the touching, all of it just has my head slightly hazy.
