Read Online Stripped Raw by Prescott Lane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Prescott Lane
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enough to tease the shit out of me. What’s she wearing underneath? Thong? G-string? Hipsters? Bikinis? Boy shorts? Two days dating a lingerie designer, and I’ve already got the lingo down. She turns around and catches me staring, and I meet her at the bathroom door.
“I just need to put a little makeup on,” she says.
One long, slow look up and down her body makes her normally pale skin flush. Fucking love that! “You look beautiful,” I say and pull her close. “And you smell good, too.”
She exhales and thanks me, looking like the weight of the world just lifted. Reaching for her lipstick she asks, “So where are we going?”
But I don’t respond. Instead, I take her hand and head towards the door. “Wait, I’m not ready.”
“You don’t need any of that stuff.”
She lets go of my hand, grabbing her makeup bag. “Just a little lipstick.”
I stop her hand. “No cosmetic company can make a shade better than your natural color,” I say.
“You are impossible,” she says, smiling.
I run my thumb across her full bottom lip, my eyes following the path I made. “Your lips are this perfect sort of candy red, like you’ve just eaten a strawberry.” I bend down and gently kiss her.
Her eyes land on my lips as I pull back. I can see her heartbeat through her dress, feel her legs weaken next to me, and she blushes. That’s one of the most addictive things about her. As soon as I touch her, her skin heats and her breathing changes. She’s very easy to read. Most people are; it just requires you pay a little more attention.
I gently run my fingers down the curve of her face, and her eyes close at my touch. It would be so easy to get lost in this feeling, to get lost in her. I pull her closer, and her eyes flash open, no doubt feeling my rock hard dick poking her. “I love how your eyes are layered with browns and golds.”
Running my fingers along her arms, I feel my heart thumping wildly in my chest. And a part of me feels surprised—that I’m feeling this way again, at a tipping point in my life, at a time when I least expected it.
I turn her to face the mirror and rest my cheek next to hers. I hold her eyes in the mirror. “It’s you I want—the real you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KENZIE
Since Tessa and I first met, Sunday’s been our day together. We call it “Sister Sunday.” Even when we were in college or I was off in Europe, we’d spend Sundays on the phone or talking on Skype. Nothing got in the way—not work, not housecleaning, not boys. That’s still true.
The fact that I’ve been seeing Kane for a few weeks doesn’t matter, and the fact that Tessa’s sick doesn’t matter, either. Sunday is my day with my stepsister. We do whatever Tessa is up for, which usually isn’t much, maybe just lunch and some gossiping. But today Tessa’s in a strangely happy mood and insists we go shopping.
“We’re celebrating,” Tessa says, reaching to open the department store door.
I take hold of the door. “Good news from the doctor?”
“No, your new boy toy! You need some new clothes for all the hot dates!”
“I was hoping we were shopping for you,” I groan. “You know I hate shopping for me.”
“I’ve never understood that,” Tessa says. “You’re a designer. You can’t hate shopping!”
“Things just don’t fit right. Can we at least shop for shoes?”
“Clothes first,” Tessa says. “Then we can check out some Frye boots. I’ll buy you a pair.”
“Tessa, you don’t have to do that. They’re like five hundred bucks!”
“I’m buying them for my baby sis.”
“They’re way too much!” I cry, but Tessa ignores me and picks up a pair of designer jeans. “No jeans. That’s the worst. By the way, who’s got Zoe?”
“At the park with Dad,” she says, grabbing a few more pair. “So give me some juice on Kane.”
I feel my cheeks flush as I give her the scoop on the past few weeks. It’s way too early to be feeling so much for Kane, way too soon
“I just need to put a little makeup on,” she says.
One long, slow look up and down her body makes her normally pale skin flush. Fucking love that! “You look beautiful,” I say and pull her close. “And you smell good, too.”
She exhales and thanks me, looking like the weight of the world just lifted. Reaching for her lipstick she asks, “So where are we going?”
But I don’t respond. Instead, I take her hand and head towards the door. “Wait, I’m not ready.”
“You don’t need any of that stuff.”
She lets go of my hand, grabbing her makeup bag. “Just a little lipstick.”
I stop her hand. “No cosmetic company can make a shade better than your natural color,” I say.
“You are impossible,” she says, smiling.
I run my thumb across her full bottom lip, my eyes following the path I made. “Your lips are this perfect sort of candy red, like you’ve just eaten a strawberry.” I bend down and gently kiss her.
Her eyes land on my lips as I pull back. I can see her heartbeat through her dress, feel her legs weaken next to me, and she blushes. That’s one of the most addictive things about her. As soon as I touch her, her skin heats and her breathing changes. She’s very easy to read. Most people are; it just requires you pay a little more attention.
I gently run my fingers down the curve of her face, and her eyes close at my touch. It would be so easy to get lost in this feeling, to get lost in her. I pull her closer, and her eyes flash open, no doubt feeling my rock hard dick poking her. “I love how your eyes are layered with browns and golds.”
Running my fingers along her arms, I feel my heart thumping wildly in my chest. And a part of me feels surprised—that I’m feeling this way again, at a tipping point in my life, at a time when I least expected it.
I turn her to face the mirror and rest my cheek next to hers. I hold her eyes in the mirror. “It’s you I want—the real you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KENZIE
Since Tessa and I first met, Sunday’s been our day together. We call it “Sister Sunday.” Even when we were in college or I was off in Europe, we’d spend Sundays on the phone or talking on Skype. Nothing got in the way—not work, not housecleaning, not boys. That’s still true.
The fact that I’ve been seeing Kane for a few weeks doesn’t matter, and the fact that Tessa’s sick doesn’t matter, either. Sunday is my day with my stepsister. We do whatever Tessa is up for, which usually isn’t much, maybe just lunch and some gossiping. But today Tessa’s in a strangely happy mood and insists we go shopping.
“We’re celebrating,” Tessa says, reaching to open the department store door.
I take hold of the door. “Good news from the doctor?”
“No, your new boy toy! You need some new clothes for all the hot dates!”
“I was hoping we were shopping for you,” I groan. “You know I hate shopping for me.”
“I’ve never understood that,” Tessa says. “You’re a designer. You can’t hate shopping!”
“Things just don’t fit right. Can we at least shop for shoes?”
“Clothes first,” Tessa says. “Then we can check out some Frye boots. I’ll buy you a pair.”
“Tessa, you don’t have to do that. They’re like five hundred bucks!”
“I’m buying them for my baby sis.”
“They’re way too much!” I cry, but Tessa ignores me and picks up a pair of designer jeans. “No jeans. That’s the worst. By the way, who’s got Zoe?”
“At the park with Dad,” she says, grabbing a few more pair. “So give me some juice on Kane.”
I feel my cheeks flush as I give her the scoop on the past few weeks. It’s way too early to be feeling so much for Kane, way too soon
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