Read Online Tell Me a Secret (The Story Series Book 4) by Tamara Lush - Free Book Online
Authors: Tamara Lush
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of pain. It both repelled me and sent a flood of molten desire into parts of my body that had been dormant for months.
Glancing at him, knowing he was staring at me, I rationalized with my drunk self. Bargained and cajoled.
The worst had already happened: my husband, my soul twin, was gone. Either dead or had chosen not to return to me. How much more horrible could it get? If I made out with Colin, standing there so tall and handsome, what harm would it do? It wasn’t like I was cheating. Not exactly, anyway. I couldn’t cheat on a husband who was absent. Or gone. Or worse.
I was a single mother left with…well, I didn’t know what. But from the signals my body was giving off after the kiss, I wasn’t dead yet. And the warmth of Colin’s mouth was soothing, erotic, and seemingly right…for tonight. Or maybe it was wrong and I was confused. And a little drunk.
I didn’t know and didn’t care. All I wanted was to think of myself and my desires, instead of all the problems swirling in my life.
I turned to Colin and mentally dumped all sense and reason into nearby Biscayne Bay. The warm wind kicked up and made me feel invincible.
“Kiss me again,” I demanded.
“Gladly,” he murmured and did. I grabbed fistfuls of his linen shirt and pulled him toward me, wanting so much more. His lips were slow and erotic, and I didn’t hesitate to slip my tongue toward his.
In my drunk, thrilled state, I did not care one bit about making out with my brother-in-law at a swank bar. I didn’t give a crap we were two adults twirling tongues and breathing hard while a half-dozen people tried not to stare.
Not one fuck was given. Not by me and obviously not by Colin.
“You’re stunning,” he murmured, stroking my face with his palms. “I’ve thought about you since—”
“Stop. I don’t want to know.” Colin had seen naked photos of me on Caleb’s phone. He’d also seen me in bed for days, enormously pregnant and sweaty. Hell, he’d seen me right after I gave birth. I didn’t care to know which of those turned him on or which of them didn’t.
“I’m not your usual type, let’s just leave it at that,” I said, running my hands down his chest. Just the motion made me wobble, and he steadied me by corseting my ribcage with his big hands. My, he was broad and his muscles felt hard under the linen. I squeezed his biceps and panted a little.
Maybe I made a little mmm noise out loud.
Possibly I licked my lips lasciviously.
Yes, I probably shot him a seductive, smoldering glance on top of everything.
He chuckled when I batted my eyelashes. “Like what you see?”
I laughed hard. It was all so cheesy and predictable, but drunkenly funny, too. By this time I was sitting on the bar stool, which put me at about his same height. Standing had become too onerous.
“Emma, you’re better than my usual type. Look at you, with those huge, dark eyes. And your cheekbones.” He traced my face and looked more caring than I’d ever thought possible. “Your face is so beautiful. Your jawline…sexy.” He kissed the hollow between my jaw and neck and my whole body lit up.
I shrugged while waves of intoxicated desire crashed over me. I was a thirty-six-year-old new mom with a belly pooch and some stretch marks. A woman whose hormones were raging as hard as a teenage boy’s.
“Stop. Don’t shrug and be sarcastic. It’s true. You’re stunning.”
I rolled my eyes. I was certain he’d said this to other women. Maybe I’d even heard him say it at one of my parties. “Don’t bullshit me. You can save the speech. Just kiss me more.”
He chuckled and leaned in, pausing an inch from my mouth so we were breathing each other’s air. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.
“And you’re fucking drunk,” I whispered back, his compliment shredding my thoughts.
He laughed. “So are you.”
“Whatever. Why aren’t you kissing me?”
He did, and he gripped my jaw with one hand, turning my head and
Glancing at him, knowing he was staring at me, I rationalized with my drunk self. Bargained and cajoled.
The worst had already happened: my husband, my soul twin, was gone. Either dead or had chosen not to return to me. How much more horrible could it get? If I made out with Colin, standing there so tall and handsome, what harm would it do? It wasn’t like I was cheating. Not exactly, anyway. I couldn’t cheat on a husband who was absent. Or gone. Or worse.
I was a single mother left with…well, I didn’t know what. But from the signals my body was giving off after the kiss, I wasn’t dead yet. And the warmth of Colin’s mouth was soothing, erotic, and seemingly right…for tonight. Or maybe it was wrong and I was confused. And a little drunk.
I didn’t know and didn’t care. All I wanted was to think of myself and my desires, instead of all the problems swirling in my life.
I turned to Colin and mentally dumped all sense and reason into nearby Biscayne Bay. The warm wind kicked up and made me feel invincible.
“Kiss me again,” I demanded.
“Gladly,” he murmured and did. I grabbed fistfuls of his linen shirt and pulled him toward me, wanting so much more. His lips were slow and erotic, and I didn’t hesitate to slip my tongue toward his.
In my drunk, thrilled state, I did not care one bit about making out with my brother-in-law at a swank bar. I didn’t give a crap we were two adults twirling tongues and breathing hard while a half-dozen people tried not to stare.
Not one fuck was given. Not by me and obviously not by Colin.
“You’re stunning,” he murmured, stroking my face with his palms. “I’ve thought about you since—”
“Stop. I don’t want to know.” Colin had seen naked photos of me on Caleb’s phone. He’d also seen me in bed for days, enormously pregnant and sweaty. Hell, he’d seen me right after I gave birth. I didn’t care to know which of those turned him on or which of them didn’t.
“I’m not your usual type, let’s just leave it at that,” I said, running my hands down his chest. Just the motion made me wobble, and he steadied me by corseting my ribcage with his big hands. My, he was broad and his muscles felt hard under the linen. I squeezed his biceps and panted a little.
Maybe I made a little mmm noise out loud.
Possibly I licked my lips lasciviously.
Yes, I probably shot him a seductive, smoldering glance on top of everything.
He chuckled when I batted my eyelashes. “Like what you see?”
I laughed hard. It was all so cheesy and predictable, but drunkenly funny, too. By this time I was sitting on the bar stool, which put me at about his same height. Standing had become too onerous.
“Emma, you’re better than my usual type. Look at you, with those huge, dark eyes. And your cheekbones.” He traced my face and looked more caring than I’d ever thought possible. “Your face is so beautiful. Your jawline…sexy.” He kissed the hollow between my jaw and neck and my whole body lit up.
I shrugged while waves of intoxicated desire crashed over me. I was a thirty-six-year-old new mom with a belly pooch and some stretch marks. A woman whose hormones were raging as hard as a teenage boy’s.
“Stop. Don’t shrug and be sarcastic. It’s true. You’re stunning.”
I rolled my eyes. I was certain he’d said this to other women. Maybe I’d even heard him say it at one of my parties. “Don’t bullshit me. You can save the speech. Just kiss me more.”
He chuckled and leaned in, pausing an inch from my mouth so we were breathing each other’s air. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.
“And you’re fucking drunk,” I whispered back, his compliment shredding my thoughts.
He laughed. “So are you.”
“Whatever. Why aren’t you kissing me?”
He did, and he gripped my jaw with one hand, turning my head and
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