Read Online Month of Sundays by Yolanda Wallace - Free Book Online
Authors: Yolanda Wallace
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seating arrangement while adding an extensive breakfast-themed menu to the mix. “Ready for Breakfast in Bed?” a series of well-placed print ads inquired.
“Would you like to get to know me better?”
Griffin’s directness took Rachel by surprise. She nearly tripped over a group of people enjoying cosmopolitans and eggs Benedict on a mattress nearby.
“If I tell you everything up front, there wouldn’t be anything left for you to uncover. Where’s the fun in that?” She narrowly avoided another header. Way to make an impression. She’s going to think I’ve forgotten how to walk and talk at the same time.
“Are you saying I should peel you like an onion or a grape?”
Griffin took her hand—probably to prevent her from doing a face-plant before they reached their destination. Rachel latched on for dear life.
“What’s the difference?” She was surprised to find herself capable of rational thought. She hadn’t felt this drawn to someone since…well, never.
Griffin led her to an empty mattress in the back of the bar and waited for her to get settled in before she sat (okay, lay ) next to her. “The difference is when you peel a grape, you have to do it slowly, sensually, and very carefully. When you peel an onion, every time you think the job’s done, you pull back another layer. Getting to the center takes longer than you think it should.”
“How long do you think it would take for you to get to my center?”
Griffin laced the fingers of her right hand through the ones on Rachel’s left. “It would probably take me a month of Sundays, but I’m willing to put in the time if you are.”
“What are you proposing?”
“One date each Sunday for the next…” She paused while she did the math in her head. “Seven and a half months. I get to know you while I peel the onion one layer at a time. I woo you, not with my body but with my mind. Something, I have to say, would be a first for me.”
“What do I get out of the deal?”
“A trip around the world without ever leaving New York.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Griffin’s right thumb slowly slid against the space between Rachel’s left thumb and index finger. Back and forth. Back and forth. The movement was as sensuous and hypnotic as a snake charmer’s pungi . “Do we have a deal?”
A month of Sundays. The expression was as quaint as the idea that Griffin would like to spend thirty days—no—thirty Sundays courting her instead of trying to get into her pants right away. The thought simultaneously intrigued and frightened her. Intrigue won out.
“Deal.”
“Where would you like to go first?”
Rachel leaned forward until her lips were no more than a breath away from Griffin’s. When Griffin’s gray eyes darkened, Rachel moved past her mouth and close to her ear. She could hear Griffin’s breath quicken. She could see her pulse beating at the base of her throat, its rhythm matching the insistent pounding between Rachel’s legs. “Surprise me.”
“Gladly.” Griffin’s free hand slid across the nape of Rachel’s neck, raising goose bumps on the sensitive, newly exposed skin. Her lips parted.
Rachel’s heart trip-hammered in her chest. Was this really happening? Was Griffin Sutton, the sexiest woman she had ever met, about to kiss her? She watched Griffin’s lips move inexorably closer to hers.
“May I bring you something to drink?” the waitress asked.
Rachel ordered a Manhattan, Griffin a bourbon on the rocks. Griffin looked around as if waking up from a dream. Rachel knew the feeling. She looked down. The fingers of Griffin’s right hand were still wrapped around hers. Perhaps the dream didn’t have to end.
“What’s your favorite childhood memory?” Griffin asked.
Rachel reflected on family vacations, school recitals, and outings with her friends. All of them had been enjoyable in their own right, but they had paled in comparison to the Sunday
“Would you like to get to know me better?”
Griffin’s directness took Rachel by surprise. She nearly tripped over a group of people enjoying cosmopolitans and eggs Benedict on a mattress nearby.
“If I tell you everything up front, there wouldn’t be anything left for you to uncover. Where’s the fun in that?” She narrowly avoided another header. Way to make an impression. She’s going to think I’ve forgotten how to walk and talk at the same time.
“Are you saying I should peel you like an onion or a grape?”
Griffin took her hand—probably to prevent her from doing a face-plant before they reached their destination. Rachel latched on for dear life.
“What’s the difference?” She was surprised to find herself capable of rational thought. She hadn’t felt this drawn to someone since…well, never.
Griffin led her to an empty mattress in the back of the bar and waited for her to get settled in before she sat (okay, lay ) next to her. “The difference is when you peel a grape, you have to do it slowly, sensually, and very carefully. When you peel an onion, every time you think the job’s done, you pull back another layer. Getting to the center takes longer than you think it should.”
“How long do you think it would take for you to get to my center?”
Griffin laced the fingers of her right hand through the ones on Rachel’s left. “It would probably take me a month of Sundays, but I’m willing to put in the time if you are.”
“What are you proposing?”
“One date each Sunday for the next…” She paused while she did the math in her head. “Seven and a half months. I get to know you while I peel the onion one layer at a time. I woo you, not with my body but with my mind. Something, I have to say, would be a first for me.”
“What do I get out of the deal?”
“A trip around the world without ever leaving New York.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Griffin’s right thumb slowly slid against the space between Rachel’s left thumb and index finger. Back and forth. Back and forth. The movement was as sensuous and hypnotic as a snake charmer’s pungi . “Do we have a deal?”
A month of Sundays. The expression was as quaint as the idea that Griffin would like to spend thirty days—no—thirty Sundays courting her instead of trying to get into her pants right away. The thought simultaneously intrigued and frightened her. Intrigue won out.
“Deal.”
“Where would you like to go first?”
Rachel leaned forward until her lips were no more than a breath away from Griffin’s. When Griffin’s gray eyes darkened, Rachel moved past her mouth and close to her ear. She could hear Griffin’s breath quicken. She could see her pulse beating at the base of her throat, its rhythm matching the insistent pounding between Rachel’s legs. “Surprise me.”
“Gladly.” Griffin’s free hand slid across the nape of Rachel’s neck, raising goose bumps on the sensitive, newly exposed skin. Her lips parted.
Rachel’s heart trip-hammered in her chest. Was this really happening? Was Griffin Sutton, the sexiest woman she had ever met, about to kiss her? She watched Griffin’s lips move inexorably closer to hers.
“May I bring you something to drink?” the waitress asked.
Rachel ordered a Manhattan, Griffin a bourbon on the rocks. Griffin looked around as if waking up from a dream. Rachel knew the feeling. She looked down. The fingers of Griffin’s right hand were still wrapped around hers. Perhaps the dream didn’t have to end.
“What’s your favorite childhood memory?” Griffin asked.
Rachel reflected on family vacations, school recitals, and outings with her friends. All of them had been enjoyable in their own right, but they had paled in comparison to the Sunday
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