Read Online Hard (Sexy Bastard #1 by Eve Jagger - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eve Jagger
Ads: Link
memory of Ryder kissing me—and more than kissing
me—last night. I lie in bed on my back, the covers pulled up to
my chin, as though leaving just my head exposed to the world is
somehow going to attract information to my brain.
Sunlight
gleams through the curtains in my bedroom. It looks like another
beautiful summer day in the South. I wonder what Ryder’s
doing right now?
My
hand drifts over my belly, tucks under the waistband of my pajama
pants.
No .
I push the thought, and my hand, away. I will not fantasize about
him. I will not think about him. I will not imagine what might have
happened with him if Jackson hadn’t barged in.
Reasons
last night was a terrible idea:
For starters, Ryder is my brother’s bookie, or whatever the
word is for someone who takes debts and makes loans and kicks down
doors to get his money back. Which means any connection we have isn’t
just between us—it involves Jamie, too. And wasn’t the
whole point to untangle Jamie and me from Ryder and his world, not to
get more ensnared?
And
he’s basically my boss at the present moment, which means he
has the power to fire me at any time, which would mean Jamie’s
no closer to being out of debt, which goes right back to that other
thing about the point being to get Jamie out of this mess, not deeper
into it.
Also,
being walked in on by Jackson wasn’t exactly my idea of great
timing. Now it’s not like Ryder and I can just act as though
nothing happened, which was my plan of attack post-encounter, because
someone else knows it did.
Reasons last night was a great idea:
He’s hot and he has a tongue that can move like a butterfly and
just thinking about it makes my breath catch in my throat.
Of course, the more I try not to think about Ryder, the more clearly
my mind recalls him, every part of him in perfect focus from last
night: his chiseled chest, bare in his unbuttoned shirt, the jut of
his hips above his jeans, his big hands dragging across my body and
disappearing between my legs. I can’t fight this.
I roll into the middle of the bed and turn onto my back, letting my
fingertips graze over my t-shirt and across my breasts, lightly
teasing my nipples, creating sparks of electricity that buzz into
every part of my body. I close my eyes, recreating the darkness of
his office as I dip my fingers into my mouth, then slide them into my
panties, reliving Ryder's tongue lapping at me, consuming me. Arching
my back, I rub my clit faster and harder, imagining my wetness on
Ryder lips, the deep rumble of his moans, his hands on the inside of
my thighs, pressing my knees further apart. I can feel his eyes on
me, savoring me as I come in his mouth so hard I hear music.
Literal music, I realize. From my phone in my purse across the room
on the floor. A marimba very festively alerting me that I have a
text. I pull down my t-shirt and stretch up my arms as I put my feet
on the soft carpet, trying to come out of my mental fog to guess
who’d be texting me first thing on a Saturday. Definitely not
Jamie. My mom doesn’t text. Can’t be Ryder—he
doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who does a lot of follow up,
no matter where his face has been on your skin. Besides, if it were
him, I don’t know how I’d respond— I let my body
get the best of me last night, but it won’t happen again ?
I guess I could promise that. But I don’t know that it’s
the truth. Something I learned the hard way in England is that if
something happens once, it can happen again.
I pick up the phone and see that the text is from Savannah: Hair
appointment at three in your hood. Meet for brunch before???
Yes! I text. Send me the addy. I’ll get dressed now.
Yea! I’m leaving gym. Come as you are. Sunrise Café?
I’m in PJs , I text. Just got up.
Seriously??? It’s noon! Jet lag or something more fun?
She’s right. 12:03 to be exact. Time flies when you don’t
get home til 3am.
Buy me brunch and I’ll tell you all about it ☺
“Wait,
me—last night. I lie in bed on my back, the covers pulled up to
my chin, as though leaving just my head exposed to the world is
somehow going to attract information to my brain.
Sunlight
gleams through the curtains in my bedroom. It looks like another
beautiful summer day in the South. I wonder what Ryder’s
doing right now?
My
hand drifts over my belly, tucks under the waistband of my pajama
pants.
No .
I push the thought, and my hand, away. I will not fantasize about
him. I will not think about him. I will not imagine what might have
happened with him if Jackson hadn’t barged in.
Reasons
last night was a terrible idea:
For starters, Ryder is my brother’s bookie, or whatever the
word is for someone who takes debts and makes loans and kicks down
doors to get his money back. Which means any connection we have isn’t
just between us—it involves Jamie, too. And wasn’t the
whole point to untangle Jamie and me from Ryder and his world, not to
get more ensnared?
And
he’s basically my boss at the present moment, which means he
has the power to fire me at any time, which would mean Jamie’s
no closer to being out of debt, which goes right back to that other
thing about the point being to get Jamie out of this mess, not deeper
into it.
Also,
being walked in on by Jackson wasn’t exactly my idea of great
timing. Now it’s not like Ryder and I can just act as though
nothing happened, which was my plan of attack post-encounter, because
someone else knows it did.
Reasons last night was a great idea:
He’s hot and he has a tongue that can move like a butterfly and
just thinking about it makes my breath catch in my throat.
Of course, the more I try not to think about Ryder, the more clearly
my mind recalls him, every part of him in perfect focus from last
night: his chiseled chest, bare in his unbuttoned shirt, the jut of
his hips above his jeans, his big hands dragging across my body and
disappearing between my legs. I can’t fight this.
I roll into the middle of the bed and turn onto my back, letting my
fingertips graze over my t-shirt and across my breasts, lightly
teasing my nipples, creating sparks of electricity that buzz into
every part of my body. I close my eyes, recreating the darkness of
his office as I dip my fingers into my mouth, then slide them into my
panties, reliving Ryder's tongue lapping at me, consuming me. Arching
my back, I rub my clit faster and harder, imagining my wetness on
Ryder lips, the deep rumble of his moans, his hands on the inside of
my thighs, pressing my knees further apart. I can feel his eyes on
me, savoring me as I come in his mouth so hard I hear music.
Literal music, I realize. From my phone in my purse across the room
on the floor. A marimba very festively alerting me that I have a
text. I pull down my t-shirt and stretch up my arms as I put my feet
on the soft carpet, trying to come out of my mental fog to guess
who’d be texting me first thing on a Saturday. Definitely not
Jamie. My mom doesn’t text. Can’t be Ryder—he
doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who does a lot of follow up,
no matter where his face has been on your skin. Besides, if it were
him, I don’t know how I’d respond— I let my body
get the best of me last night, but it won’t happen again ?
I guess I could promise that. But I don’t know that it’s
the truth. Something I learned the hard way in England is that if
something happens once, it can happen again.
I pick up the phone and see that the text is from Savannah: Hair
appointment at three in your hood. Meet for brunch before???
Yes! I text. Send me the addy. I’ll get dressed now.
Yea! I’m leaving gym. Come as you are. Sunrise Café?
I’m in PJs , I text. Just got up.
Seriously??? It’s noon! Jet lag or something more fun?
She’s right. 12:03 to be exact. Time flies when you don’t
get home til 3am.
Buy me brunch and I’ll tell you all about it ☺
“Wait,
Similar Books
