Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) Read Free Page B

back my no ?”
    He had no more witty retorts or less-than-veiled innuendo. “It’s definitely not too late.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugged her head back, and crushed his mouth to hers again. Need told him to push her onto the hood of the car, push her dress over her hips, and drive inside her right now. He was surprised at both the hunger and the fact he had enough reason left to know fucking her in the hotel parking lot, with people still coming and going for the evening, wasn’t the smartest idea.
    When they broke apart again, she gasped. “You place?” Her question was breathy.
    “My place.”

Chapter Three
    Something in the back of Gwen’s mind whispered Brad had to be making a lot more money than she ever realized lingerie sales yielded. The condo was wrought iron, glass, and polished granite, and the loft that led to the master bedroom and overlooked the living room was huge and gorgeous.
    Her initial impression and awe scuttled away when he jerked her head back, and kissed her hard. Saying she liked the way it felt was the understatement of the decade.
    He grazed his teeth along her throat, breath hot against her skin when he spoke. “Where to start with you?”
    “You haven’t started yet?.” Her tiny laugh faded into a moan, when he sucked on the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder.
    He pulled away enough to study her at arm’s length. She might have protested the loss of full-body contact, but every time he looked her over, her nerve endings ignited. “Take off your dress.” The hunger and desire in his gaze danced along her arms, over her chest, and through her entire frame.
    She worked her jaw up and down. The command in his tone gripped her like a vice and filled her with a new type of anticipation. She didn’t like being ordered around, though. “If you wanted to watch, you could have downloaded porn.”
    The corner of his mouth tugged up, and he led her toward the sofa in the sitting area of the loft. Hands on her hips, he set her facing the couch. When he kissed along the back of her neck, she tilted her head and leaned into him.
    “I don’t want to watch porn.” A current cut through his words, unwavering and confident. “I want to watch you. Gorgeous, assured, and here because you want to be, not because it’s a job.” He drew his fingers up her sides, along her ribs, and under her breasts. “I want to drink in your body and see you, unedited, bare, and for my eyes only.”
    She bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing a groan at the combination of his light touch, and the thrill his words summoned. Need unfurled in her belly. He dragged her zipper down, and then his ministrations stopped. He moved in front of her again, dropped onto the couch, and studied her. “Take off your dress.”
    Dampness pooled between her legs at the attention. She slid the straps down her shoulders, and he drank in every movement with his gaze. She wiggled her hips, to let the fitted black knit fall to the floor, and he followed its path before looking back at her.
    “Are the matching panties and bra for me?”
    “Of course. The point was to get laid.” She forced the teasing and bravado into her retort. Not because she didn’t feel it—she was enjoying this more than a lot of fantasies—but standing in front of him, bathing in his attention in nothing but her heels, stockings, and lace, stole her breath and fuzzed her reason.
    “That’s what I like about this.” He loosened his tie. “You’re not baring it for the cameras. This is private.”
    She’d met a lot of guys who liked a show. Voyeurs who wanted to watch… until they decided to touch. Something about this was different, though. More intimate. “I’ve never been a take-it-off-for-show kind of girl.”
    “No? No exhibitionism in you at all?” He shifted his position and adjusted his slacks, always watching her.
    She shrugged, still not comfortable standing all but naked in front of him. Except as the minutes