Everett Holden had sworn to live the rest of his life a single man, but his plans are disrupted when he finds himself sharing an apartment with his best friend's ex - the one woman he detests with every fiber of his being yet simultaneously desires...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
WHEN MORNING COMES, I feel the warmth of Emery's body curled against mine. Her hair is sprawled across my chest, an arm draped over my stomach, and for the first time, this isn't a dream of mine. We both want this.
Last night, we crossed into a territory we'd never been to before, but as much as I tried to warn myself that it'd terrify me if it ever got to that point, nothing was scary about what we did last night. Nothing at all.
Kissing and making love to her felt like everything finally fell into place. I've held onto these feelings for so many years and buried them deep down inside that they festered and brewed and contributed to the brooding and misery I've carried since childhood. And granted, I haven't actually told her I'm in love with her, but she's a smart woman. She knows I wasn't talking about the bracelet. At least, I hope.
She stirs and lets out the cutest fucking yawn I've ever heard. I play with her hair until she's finally awake, and then she props her chin on my chest. She's smiling. She doesn't regret it.
"Good morning," I say sweetly.
She shakes her head.
"What?"
Hiding her mouth with her hand, she says, "I have morning breath, Ev." I let out a burst of laughter and wince when she smacks my chest, still keeping her hand over her mouth when she adds, "It's not funny! I'm being serious."
"Em, I'm laughing because your morning breath is the last thing on my mind right now. I'm in awe of how perfect you look when you wake up."
She snorts, but her hand doesn't leave her mouth. "Do you see this bun?" Pointing to the floppy mess on her head with her free hand, I reach out to give it a tug.
"I see every piece of it, and I love it. Now move your hand so I can give you a kiss."
She shakes her head. "No way in hell."
"Don't make me move it myself."
"You wouldn't dare."
I arch my brow, letting her know I most definitely would, and when she tries to wriggle out of my grasp, I roll on top of her, my heart racing at the giggles that escape her mouth. That hand of hers is clamped tightly, and it takes three attempts before I'm finally able to pry it off and give her a smacking kiss on the lips.
"You are ridiculous!" She shrieks. "Seriously. You'll be the death of me."
Just for that, I give her another kiss and then another, trailing my tongue down her neck and making her squirm beneath me.
I shouldn't be thinking of Liam, but it makes me question so much when she reacts this way. They dated for eight years. He never wanted to wake her up and make her feel good? They never felt that rush of passion that couldn't wait for them to brush their teeth?
