Maybe This Time by Christina C. Jones EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Christina C. Jones
- Language: English
- Genre: Two-Hour Romance Short Reads
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
DES
SOMETHING WAS… off.
And I wasn’t referring to just my clothes, which were notably missing.
Aside from my state of undress, aside from being in an unfamiliar bed,
aside from the throbbing headache building at the base of my
skull… something was… not wrong.
Just… different.
I sat up, plunging hands into my ruined silk press to hopefully clear
away some tangles, only to end up with my left hand not moving. I tugged
at it, painfully realizing I was snagged on…a broken nail? That was
obviously incorrect – I was snagging in the wrong place for that to be the
answer – but it would’ve made a lot more sense than what I saw when I
brought my hand in front of me to look.
That is a big fucking ring.
My breath caught in my chest as I stared, enamored by the rose-gold
halo style ring currently adorning my finger. I was so caught up in the what
the fuck is happening of it all that I didn’t register another presence in the
room until two hands were blocking my view – one holding a glass of
water, the other offering what I assumed were pain relievers.
Both hands belonged to Trace Hamilton.
This girl’s best friend.
“You may want to get ahead of the migraine,” he urged, so I took the
relief he was offering, swallowing the pills down with the water. It wasn’t
until the glass was discarded at the bedside table that I really looked at
Trace again, and very quickly started clocking details I hadn’t in the
moment before.
Like the fact that he didn’t have any clothes on.
Meaning… no clothes, not even boxers, which meant his – sizable,
beautiful – dick was just hanging free. I shifted my gaze, knowing I
shouldn’t be looking at him in such a way.
His face was a safe place.
Should’ve been a safe place.
Would’ve been a safe place, if he wasn’t looking at me like he… like
he… wanted me? Trace had been fine since I’d met him, so long ago that I
was too used to his good looks to be flustered by them. The warm brown
skin, full lips, cushy beard, strong nose… they were good
features. Great features, actually, but the depth of friendship we’d
developed over the years made me immune to their typical effects.
His eyes, though.
Shit.
The hungry look he wore right now had never been turned
in my direction, and it had me so off-kilter that I couldn’t even find an
objection – or any response, for that matter – when he pulled the sheet away
from where I’d had it clutched around me.
Or when he pushed me on my back and climbed onto the bed with me.
Or, or, or, when he spread my legs wide open to climb between them
and proceeded to devour my pussy like I was his very own all you can
eat buffet.
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