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“Comparison is the killer of joy,” Saylor said, but she knew exactly what Poppy meant. She couldn’t imagine any other man on the face of the earth who could hold a candle to Monk.
He was hotter than shit, edgier than anyone she’d ever dated or even considered dating, with his tattoos and his tongue piercing and his café racer motorcycle. And he was so much more than that. He was a gentleman who was great with her girls, treated Saylor like a princess, a fabulous cook, and while he didn’t talk a lot, what he did say was interesting and thought-provoking. To be cliché, they clicked.
Yes, she missed him, like she’d never missed anyone before. She longed to feel Monk next to her every night that she climbed in bed alone. She found herself daydreaming about him as she made her morning coffee and when she made dinner for her and the girls.
That they asked about him daily didn’t help. Nor did her mother’s incessant teasing about how Saylor had finally found someone man enough to hold her interest.
Saylor sighed and looked over at Poppy, who held her bowl of popcorn on her lap, taking handful after handful while she zoned out on what looked like the most compelling movie she’d ever seen. Except her eyes were glued to Saylor, and her friend had just seen every memory play out on her face.
“You’re in love,” said Poppy.
“I’m in lust,” countered Saylor.
“Nope. That look isn’t lust. That is full-blown, all-out, heart-and-soul love.” Her friend tapped her lower lip with her finger. “Wanna know how I know?”
“Sure,” she sighed.
“Because I’ve never seen you look like this.”
Saylor had to concede that she’d never felt about Cliff the way she did just now, thinking about Monk. And it terrified her.
SAYLOR SAW two big black SUVs pull up to her brother’s house and wondered if Monk was in one of them. There was a chance that he wasn’t even with the group, but something told her he was.
She was standing on tiptoes, peering out the kitchen window, when something, or someone, caught her eye on the deck. She smiled, knowing that she’d been caught when Monk, standing just outside her door, winked.
Racing over, she unlocked it, and in a move that was, in the hindsight of a split second, probably an overreaction, launched herself into his arms.
“I missed you,” she admitted, backing away.
Monk snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her body flush with his. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured, bringing his lips to hers and bestowing one of his scorchingly hot kisses.
Without breaking their kiss, Monk gripped her bottom with his big hands and lifted her so her legs were wrapped around his waist.
“Where are the girls?”
“School.”
Monk reached around and closed the door that led from the deck into the house with one hand, while he held her body next to his with the other. He carried Saylor into the bedroom, grinding his hardness against her.
“I missed you too,” he murmured, setting her on her feet and pulling her shirt over her head. “Drop your hands,” he said when she reached around to unfasten her bra.
Monk’s demanding tone sent a shudder down the length of her body. If he weren’t holding her up, her knees would’ve buckled.
He pulled the cup of her bra below her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Pain and pleasure melded into one as he sucked hard and bit the sensitive, hardened flesh.
“Saylor,” he breathed before turning his assault on her other breast.
“WHEN DO THE GIRLS GET HOME?” Monk asked.
“Three,” Saylor answered, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. Had four hours really passed since Monk arrived at her back door?
“Come,” he said, easing himself off the bed. He held out his hand, led her into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature before ushering her under the warm stream of water.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
“Monk?”
“Yes, Saylor.”
