Page 99 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

Monty: Watch? That could mean a lot of things.

My eyes widen as I imagine a dozen different scenarios, none of which I’d actually like.

Monty: I’m a jealous man, Penny.

Monty: Watching you with anyone else would kill me.

Me: Hm, I never pictured you as the jealous type.

Monty: Fine. With you I’m selfish. Please don’t ask me to share you with anyone.

I try to ignore the way my stomach flips and butterflies erupt deep within me at that admission.

Me: That’s not the type of watching I was referring to.

Monty: You’re going to have to be more specific.

My cheeks burn as I type out my curiosity. It’s something I’ve read about time and again and always wondered what it would be like in person.

Me: I want to watch you touch yourself.

Me: Until you come.

Monty: Oh Xuxuzinho, your dirty mind might be one of my favorite things about you. And I like a lot of things about you.

His response has my entire body heating. He doesn’t ask questions about anything else on the list but, half an hour after our text exchange, he arrives right as I’m closing the store.

Stalking toward me, he steals my lips with a heated kiss.

“Monty,” I whisper against his mouth.

“I’ve been so good today, Penny,” he groans. “I wrote so many words. You should see the chemistry, baby. I hope you love this story, because it’s all for you.”

His hands reach out to cup my cheeks, his slutty glasses fogging up as we breathe heavily together.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.”

Because if this book is even half as good as he’s been to me, everyone will love it.

“Can I take you upstairs?”

I nod and am about to grab his hand to guide him when he wraps an arm behind my back and lifts me straight off my feet.

“Monty!” I squeal. “You’re going to hurt your back!”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he mutters something in Portuguese, not bothering to reply as he tucks me against his chest and carries me fireman-style through the store.

“You know I can walk,” I say with very little heat and a lot of mortification. He can’t possibly carry me up the twenty steps to my apartment. Monty is not a little man, but I’m not a small woman.

All I get in response is a singular jaw movement, a definitive no. Monty doesn’t stop moving until we’re in my apartment, and even then, he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he carries me straight into the bedroom, where he sits down on the bed, continuing to hold me in his arms.

His breathing is heavy—probably because he just lugged me up the stairs like a damn caveman—and he’s still not looking at me. I try to push off him, but his grip only tightens.

“If you say you’re crushing me, so help me God, Penelope Darling, I won’t be held responsible for the color I’ll turn your ass.”

“Monty.”

His expression is pained when he turns those emerald eyes on me. “You are beautiful, Xuxuzinho. Your curves, your hips, your stomach, your ass—” His eyes dip and his jaw strains. “Your tits. I’m obsessed with every inch of you so please don’t put yourself down. Stop thinking you’re too much for me when you are absolutely everything I want.”