Chapters (28)
- Cover
- Praise for the novels of
- Titles by Lexi Blake
- Dedication
- prologue
- chapter one
- chapter two
- chapter three
- chapter four
- chapter five
- chapter six
- chapter seven
- chapter eight
- chapter nine
- chapter ten
- chapter eleven
- chapter twelve
- chapter thirteen
- chapter fourteen
- chapter fifteen
- chapter sixteen
- chapter seventeen
- chapter eighteen
- chapter nineteen
- acknowledgments
- Coming Soon
- about the author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
He stroked his free hand over her back almost to her neck and then down again. He stopped at her hips but it was like that hand went straight to her core. How long had it been since her body had shivered in anticipation? How long since her head had gone fuzzy with need?
“Lila, baby, I need you to say yes.”
She found she couldn’t tell the man no. “Yes. You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”
He stroked over her back again and she utterly forgot why this had ever seemed like a bad idea.
“Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.” He was staring right at her. “That’s the funny thing about Papillon. It’s like time slows down and we can enjoy things more here. I’ve lived in the city, and while it has its perks, I like the pace here. Here, I can stop and stare at you for a while. I can study you and tell you how beautiful your eyes are. And your lips. God, I can’t stop thinking about your lips.” He brought his hand up and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You are an incredibly sexy woman. I couldn’t take my eyes off you at the wedding. I was going to ask you to dance with me, but I missed the chance.”
It was time for some honesty. “I watched you, too. I knew you were heading my way and I couldn’t. I ran away. I spent the rest of the reception in the ladies’ room or helping clean up.”
It wasn’t her proudest moment, but then, she’d had a lot of those lately.
He frowned. Even that was sexy. She ran her hand over his cheek, feeling the scruff of a beard coming in. He would have to shave every single day. Or not. He might look hot with a beard.
“You danced with a couple of other men. Why not me?”
“Because I wanted to dance with you and I couldn’t let myself. Because you scared me.” She took a deep breath, letting the scent of him wash over her senses. He must have taken a shower before he’d gone to bed because he smelled delicious. “But I’m sick and tired of being scared.”
Before he could reply, she went up on her toes and kissed him. She closed her eyes and for once simply let a moment happen. She was the woman who plotted and planned every single minute of her day. From childhood, she’d been a list maker, every second written down and crossed off. She couldn’t have planned for Armie LaVigne. She’d made the choice before to avoid him, to control herself and the situation, but things were different now.
Now she’d figured out that controlling every aspect of her life wasn’t working. It was time to give a little.