Read Online One Little Thing by Kimberly Lang - Free Book Online Page A

disappointed to find Quinn seated on the edge of her bed—instead of naked and
in
it—but standing between his thighs, held firmly by the hips as he took his sweet damn time kissing his way across her chest, over her breasts and ribs, belly and hips, she got over that disappointment pretty quickly. Her death-grip on his shoulders was the only thing keeping her upright by the time he flipped the clasp of her shorts open and let them drop to the floor.
    And then—
finally
—she was on the bed beside Quinn, and he was—
finally
—naked, his knee wedged between her thighs. The sensation of crisp hair against that overly sensitive skin was topping the Ten Best Feelings Ever List, only to be displaced a second later by . . .
Oh. My. God.
    She might not survive this.
    She grabbed the sheets, trying to anchor herself.
    Mercy.
She was going to die happy.
    *  *  *
    And just like that, they were a couple.
    Quinn was still a little confused by this, but he also didn’t want to question his luck too closely for fear he’d jinx it.
    Sophie was smart and beautiful, funny and sexy. She was independent and determined, yet laid-back and even goofy at times. She even liked his dog, keeping treats in a jar and a water bowl for Scoop on the deck. Wet, sandy dogs were still banned from coming inside, but Sophie got Scoop a blanket and some toys to occupy her in the evenings when she was clean and dry.
    They’d settled into a routine almost immediately. He’d take Scoop to the beach in the morning for her run, then stop at Sophie’s for a cup of coffee—and sometimes breakfast. Then he went to work and so did she. Sophie wasn’t one for random texts or phone calls during the day, but she always finished up by six or so, leaving her evening free. Sometimes she’d cook—he was a happy guinea pig for her recipe experiments, even if they were mostly breakfast foods—or they’d go out, letting him reintroduce her to the people and places of Magnolia Beach. Hell, they’d made a point of christening every room of the inn already—except for the kitchen, because Sophie insisted that wouldn’t be appropriate or hygienic.
    It was damn near perfect, more than he really could have asked for, and almost enough to make him slightly smug about his good fortune.
    A little over two weeks later, three days before Sophie’s “soft opening,” they sat on the back deck, feet propped up on the railing, as the sun set. Scoop lay stretched out between their chairs, happily shredding a stuffed animal. Sophie was debating hors d’oeuvres choices for her open house, now only four days away.
    â€œMini-quiches are just so easy that it’s tempting just to be lazy, but
everyone
serves mini-quiches for just that reason that it’s clichéd and so tired now.” Scowling at the cookbook in her lap, she flipped to a different page. “But they also keep well, so any leftovers wouldn’t go to waste. Hmm . . .”
    â€œYou are very calm for someone just a few days from opening.”
    Sophie shrugged. “I’m ready. If someone walked through that door now, I’d be fine. Hell, I’d be
ecstatic
. I built in too much of a buffer zone for contingencies and disasters, and now I’m dying to just be open already.”
    â€œYour ad ran in yesterday’s paper.”
    She grinned. “I know. I’ve already had a bunch of calls. It’s very heartening.”
    â€œWell, people want to get a look inside and see what you’ve done with the place. Small-town nosiness, if nothing else.”
    â€œThey’ll get their chance Sunday. Fingers crossed it’ll be a good crowd. Would it be tacky for me to take flyers to the party at the school Friday night?”
    â€œI don’t know about tacky, but it’s probably unnecessary.” He’d made some phone calls to ensure that she’d have a good