Too Good To Be True: A One Love novella
Page 4
He sweeps his thumb over my jaw. “And I don’t want to hurt you. All I want is to make you feel good.”
And my heart—it soars to the sky. “That’s the past. This is the present.” I smile, and the way he smiles back at me, all crooked and sexy, sends heat through my body.
“There’s only one way to find out if this thing is too good to be true,” he says, his voice low, husky. His hand slinks around my neck, into my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
“To do this thing.”
“Let’s do this thing.” He dips his face to my neck then kisses me there. “You know what escape room I’d like to go to right now?”
“Which one?” I’m trembling with desire.
“There’s one in my apartment.”
I moan. “If you take me there, I’m not going to want to escape.”
“That’s the plan.”
I plant a kiss on his lips, and it’s better than last night. It’s wonderful and magical, and I feel it everywhere. Everything else fades away but the absolute magic of this man and me. Maybe I’m crazy, but I swear I can taste forever in his kiss.
I make a choice.
To break my habits and make brand new ones.
Starting with the hot, dirty sex I’d hoped for.
8
Herb
When we make it to her apartment, my sweet guy side takes the back seat. Once the door closes I whisper filthy things in her ear.
Want to strip off all your clothes.
Spread you out on the bed.
Eat you, taste you, have you.
“Who knew that you had such a dirty mouth?” Olivia says, trailing her fingers over my chest. “You’re quite naughty.” She grabs my shirt, tugging it over my head as we stumble to my bed.
I wiggle a playful brow. “Guess you bring out all the naughty in me.”
She laughs as she drags her nails along my abs. “Grooves. You have traceable grooves. Yes, definitely too good.”
“Tell me if this is too good to be true.” I yank off her top, unclasp her bra, and dip my head to her fantastic breasts, murmuring as I lick a circle around one nipple. “I’d like to lick, and kiss, and fuck you all night long, Olivia. Take you hard, take you slow, take you every way.”
She shivers. ‘“Are you for real? Is this happening?”
“Only one way to find out.” I lavish attention on her breasts. “Does this feel real?”
“Yes.”
“And does this sound like I’m really saying it? Your skin tastes delicious. I could spend the night worshipping your body.”
She murmurs her yes. Then adds, “I’d like that very much.”
But she’s an equal opportunity worshipper, it turns out. Even when I have her squirming and panting, she doesn’t let her own pleasure deter her. She sits up, pressing a hand to my chest. “Let me taste you. Let me show you how much I want you too.”
Who am I to argue? “Show me,” I tell her, then wrap her hair in a fist, and tug her down.
She takes me in her mouth, and she’s spectacular with her tongue.
I let her know, urging her on with words.
Just like that.
Your mouth feels so damn good.
So. Fucking. Good.
But it’s too good. So I stop, pull her up, bring her close, and whisper, “Let me fuck you now, sweetheart.”
She trembles when I say that word — sweetheart.
Once I’m inside her, it’s electric and intense, it’s wild and frenzied, it’s slow and tender. It’s the best it’s ever been.
But it’s not too good to be true. It’s better.
She seems to agree, telling me when we’re done, “We’ll have to do it again so I know for sure it’s real.”
“Fine by me.”
And so we do.
* * *
The next morning I take her out for pancakes.
With her fork in hand, she dives in with gusto. “I love pancakes.”
“Some people do.”
“Hey! Don’t rain on my pancake parade.” She eyes my plate of eggs. “Why didn’t you order pancakes?”
I sigh heavily and level with her. “I don’t like them.”
Her blue eyes pop. “What? How is that possible?”
“Just don’t. I’m an eggs and hash browns kind of guy.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “I refuse to believe anyone can dislike pancakes.”
I tap my chest. “This guy does.”
She huffs, takes another bite of her pancakes, then smiles. “Herb.” She sets down her fork and gives me a strange smile.
“What? Is this a deal-breaker? A new act of sabotage?”
She stands, moves around the table, and sits down next to me, then kisses my cheek. “You told me you hate pancakes, and I still like you. This must be the real thing.”
I laugh, cup her cheek, and bring her close for another kiss.
“And amazingly, I can tolerate the taste of pancakes on your lips.”
She tap-dances her fingers down my shirt. “I’ll get you to like them eventually.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I walk her home, and outside her apartment she gives me the best redo ever—kissing the hell out of me and making me wish I could take the rest of the day off.
Instead, I peel myself away, send her a text, and ask if I can see her that night.
Seconds later, she replies with a yes.
It’s possible I send her a few more texts that day. It’s possible some are sweet. It’s possible some are dirty too. She seems to like all those sides of me, and hell, I like all of hers.
Or really, love is the better word.
Epilogue
Olivia
I spend the night. And the next night, and the next one, and the next one.
For several wonderful blissful months that culminate in a ring, a promise, and a shared home.
Right now, I’m heading to meet Evie to thank her for setting me up with the man who has become my fiancé. When I see her at the coffee shop, Flynn is with her. “If we could only convince Flynn to let me work on him,” Evie says, crossing her fingers.
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m too focused on work.”
I shoot him a you’re so ridiculous look, then turn to Evie. “Someday he’ll realize there is a meant-to-be for him, since I found mine. And we’re going to Bora Bora for our honeymoon.”
Flynn’s green eyes light up. “He passed the Bora Bora litmus test.”
“And someday you’ll find someone who passes yours,” I say.
My brother might be reluctant, he might have his own reasons for keeping up his guard, but I believe that deep down, there’s a woman who’s going to be his perfect match.
I found mine.
I thought he was too good to be true.
Then I realized that some things simply are, and those are the ones you don’t let slip away.
THE END
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It should be an easy rule to follow – don’t bang your boss…
But I didn’t know who he was when I met him.
And the first time I saw him, our connection sounded like the stuff of romantic legends — that whole “their eyes locked across a crowded room” moment that turned into more.
I didn’t believe it. . . . until it happened to me.
Fine, the charming, clever, sexy-as-sin guy in the tailored suit was only trying to buy the same Snoopy lunchbox (as a gift!), but still, our eyes totally locked, and my lady parts definitely tingled as we vied for the prize.
Naturally, I did what any badass business woman would do. Negotiated for the lunchbox, then found my what-if guy online and made plans to see him the next night
.
One night only — that was the deal we made.
But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another.
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Prologue
Logan
Some things in life are hard, some are damn hard, and some might as well be impossible.
Snagging a dream job?
Tough, but I finagled it.
Raising a kid solo?
Anything but easy, but I must be doing something right, because mine is awesome.
But try meeting a woman when you’re in your thirties, a single dad with zero free time.
Wait. Make that a woman you like, who’s fun to talk to, and who’s not going to stab you in the back, or the spleen, or right in the heart with a jagged knife.
Now that’s a Herculean task.
I’m not sure it’s possible to find someone like that no matter who you are. You might call me jaded, but I prefer to think I’ve learned from my mistakes.
I live in the present, sure, but I don’t forget what life has taught me.
I’m careful. I’m cautious. And when it comes to my romantic life, I am as skeptical as a fact-checker, looking for hoaxes, lies, and emotional scams like it’s my job.
And that’s worked well for me.
Right up to the day I pop into a store to grab a gift for the most important person in my world. I know what I’m after. I should be in and out in a minute.
Instead, I lock eyes with the sexiest brunette I’ve ever seen.
And her hand is on the same Snoopy lunch box I want.
Game on.
Game fucking on.
I thought I knew what “tough” was. But I forgot that it’s when you assume you have life all figured out that it decides to make an ass out of you.
And I have a feeling I’m about to get schooled.
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