Trouble (Orsen Brothers #1) Read Free Page B

pay…”
    “I know,” I said, looking back at the men. “I just think you’re better than this is all…”
    She swiveled around and nudged a finger against my chest. “I don’t need your input,” she said firmly, “I’m a big girl Anders Orsen. I assure you—I can take care of myself just fine. In fact—I have been—for four years.”
    She put emphasis on that last part.
    “I know,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m not saying you cant.”
    “Then what are you saying exactly?”
    “Just…” I sighed into my palm and waved my other hand around the dimly lit diner. The place had long outlived its glory days. It was actually pretty damn sad. “What happened between you and Liam?”
    Something flickered in her expression but it passed before I could put my finger on it. She pursued her lips and tugged off her apron, hanging it up and keeping her eyes trained on me.
    “Just shut up,” she demanded, her breath grazing my ear as she nodded at the stretch of hallway across the room. “Wait a few minutes and then follow me.”
    I didn’t ask her what she meant. I swallowed hard and remained quiet as her fingertips grazed my back. She stood up straight and flattened her blouse—sauntering past me and calling out to another waitress—who she asked to cover for her while she went on lunch.
    I didn’t get more than five feet down the hall before a soft hand snaked its way around my arm and pulled me into a cramped storage closet. She pounced forward as soon as the door clicked shut. A pair of glowing topaz eyes were the only thing I could make out in the darkness as she curved herself against me and our bodies tangled, warm lips colliding in a kiss laced with desperation.
    My heart beat in overdrive against my ribcage and the small room buzzed around us. I had fantasized about this from the moment I turned fourteen.  I just never thought it would come to fruition. 
    "You missed me," I breathed in between wet kisses, curling my hands around her waist. The dusty fan above us twirled in slow circles but it wasn’t doing it’s job in keeping us cool.
    I returned her quiet moan with one of my own, lifting her body up against the wall as passion overwhelmed my senses. Her hands traveled their way up my chest, finding shelter in my hair as I palmed her breasts over the fabric of her cotton work blouse. We crashed against a metal shelf and a few boxes tumbled over us—but neither one of us stopped to survey the damage.
    She pushed herself harder against me, eliminating all gaps of space between us, and I pressed my palm against her chest. Her heart was beating just as hard and fast as mine was. I took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and she opened her mouth in acceptance as our tongues danced. She tasted like peppermint. She always loved putting a dash of the stuff in her coffee.
    I pulled at the fabric of her shirt in desperation, feeling her shiver beneath me as I trailed my hands down her porcelain skin. Her nipples were rock hard and a soft moan vibrated against her throat as I grazed over each one with my thumbs. She pulled me against her chest by the fabric of my t-shirt and whimpered in protest when I broke our kiss, lifting her eyes to meet mine.
    “Slow,” I whispered huskily, cupping her chin in my hands and rubbing a finger over her swollen lips.
    “Screw slow,” she said stubbornly, her voice coming out in a ragged breath as she trailed hungry kisses down my neck. “I’m tired of slow.”
    I groaned as her fingers grazed my crotch, trailing my calloused palms over her legs as her skirt rode up her thighs. She smelled amazing—like summer bottled and turned into a perfume—but somehow not too much like flowers. She moaned softly and allowed me to take charge, lifting her hips to aid me in removing her panties.
    “Please don’t ever do that to me again,” she panted as I balled up the cotton fabric and tossed it to the floor, massaging the pad of my thumb over her throbbing clitoris.