On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2) by Gillian Jones Page A

staring back and forth from my eyes to my mouth as if seeking permission.
    Then it happens. In my need for him, a need for intimate contact, both lust and want take over and I jump up, wrapping my legs around his strong body, willing him to give me what I want in that moment. Comfort. I have no clue what the hell has gotten into me but as Levi scoops me up, growling in clear approval, any need for justification is erased from my mind. We take each other’s lips so reverently I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. It all just feels so right.
    With a low growl from deep in Levi’s throat, we’re suddenly on the move, my back quickly meeting the wall, and the door slamming shut behind us.
    “Fuck, baby, I’ve been thinking of your taste for so long,” he grits out, trailing hot kisses from my ear, all along my neck and down to my full breasts, and I moan in response. He takes my arms and moves them above my head, pinning them in place exactly where he wants them. I wrap my legs more tightly around his waist, the thin fabric of my yoga pants rubbing against his jeans.
    Levi’s mouth is over mine again, seeking entrance, which I grant. Our tongues swirl and move into each other and it’s the most electric sensation I’ve ever felt from a kiss. Levi’s touch sends tiny currents through my body. His effect on me is immediate, and I begin to grind down on his hardness because I need relief in the worst way. Being this close to him has me all kinds of needy and desperate. Moving his hips, he guides my pussy so it’s perfectly in line with his cock; the only things separating us are a few scraps of material. “You feel so fucking good, Wynnie. Just like I knew you would.”
    Wynnie .
    Hearing that name causes ice to rush into my veins, my arousal turning off as quickly as a faucet. Suddenly, I’m full-on crying. Uncontrollable sobs escape from deep within as the realization of what I’ve just allowed to happen comes barrelling at me. Oh, God. I’ve just erased Shawn’s last kiss from my lips; he’s no longer the last man to have kissed me. What have I done? How could I?
    “Wynnie, baby, what’s wrong?” Levi asks, concern lacing his tone, but I can’t find the words to reassure him that it’s just me. That I’ll be fine. Instead, guilt fuels my anger and I unleash it all on him.
    “No! Don’t ever call me that,” I scream, while struggling against his arms, forcing him to let me down. My breathing is erratic as my body heaves, my emotions are so out of control. Backing away, he tries to talk to me, to comfort me again, but I want no part of it, or him. “No.” I raise my shaking hand. “You have no right to call me that, don’t ever call me that. What have I done?! ”
    With that, I bolt out of the storage room and beeline it for the front door where, as if by the grace of God, I fall hysterically bawling and speaking incoherently, right into the arms of the one person I need—London—who drops the tray of Starbucks she was carrying to catch me.
    *
    The next thing I know, I’m waking up in my room. The space is dark except for the glow of the purple lamp that sits on the night table beside my queen-sized bed. Sitting up and shifting the blankets, I instantly have flashbacks of Levi—and my freak out. Tears threaten to come once again as I imagine how crazy he must think I am.
    Leaning over to check the time, I realize it’s already after ten. Oh, no! Emmerson! And the tears fall as guilt about being a terrible mother seeps into my mind.
    I notice a folded note resting on the base of the lamp, my name scrawled along the outside. I pick it up and see it’s from London.
    Hooker:
    All is good. Breathe. Emme is with me, we’re having a girls’ night over at my place. She, Luce, and I are having a pizza, nails, and movie night. So relax, she knows you’re not feeling well. Please believe me she was more than thrilled to come stay with us. I will have her back for brekkie.
    P.S. You have got