Read Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3) for Free Online Page A

getting cold,” I said, smirking up at him.
    “So it is,” he said. And with that, he looped an arm around my waist, lifted me in one swift movement and deposited my satin covered ass on the cold hard counter top, right between the bacon and the pile of muffins I’d made earlier. “I do enjoy a hot breakfast,” he said, pushing my knees apart with his hands. He stepped between my legs and then dipped his head low for a kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to claim me, his fingers snaking beneath the hem of his shirt, up to the edge of my panties. He tasted of coffee, his kisses feverish and urgent. His tongue sparred with mine, coaxing, promising, as he pulled my panties from my hips, down my thighs and over my knees. My pulse fluttered when I felt the fabric give way, falling to the floor, and I moaned into his kiss. His hands circled my hips, fingers splaying over my ribcage and up, to cup my breasts, his thumbs stroking over my nipples as they knotted under his touch.
    WHA-WHA-WHA-WHUH-WHA-WHA-WHA
    Thomas’s hands flew off of my breasts so fast one hand caught in the shirt for a moment before he managed to untangle it, and fumbled for the pocket of his trousers.
    “What the fuck is that?” I yelped.
    “That is the dreadfully ill-timed serenade of the Dean of Wagner University,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket, which continued to blare.
    “What a fucker!” I said as I reached for a piece of bacon, folding it into my mouth.
    “What a fucker indeed,” said Thomas. Pushing a button, he silenced the ring and set the phone on the counter. “Now, where were we?” he asked.
    “Breffist,” I said through a mouthful of bacon. I cupped his face in my hand and pinched his cheeks together, puckering his lips, then stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth while he eyed me, bemused.
    “Fanks,” he said, chewing.
    “Why is your ringtone for the Dean, Charlie Brown’s teacher?”
    “Because that’s all I hear when that man is talking,” he said. “He’s appallingly dull.”
    “You’ve got a fancy ringtone for the ex, too.”
    “Yes, I like ringtones,” he said, shrugging. “It’s a hobby.”
    “That so?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What’s your ringtone for me?”
    “Oh, that’s a good one,” he said, excited. “I recently changed yours, it’s fantastic.” He snagged his phone and scrolled, before hitting a button and holding the phone up. As soon as the refrain started playing, I recognized the tune. You can’t be named Jane and not be familiar with it. The sultry tones of the Cowboy Junkies echoed in the room and I smiled when I heard the vocalist croon “Sweet Jane” over and over.
    “Told you it was good.” Thomas grinned at me.
    “That’s a cover, you know,” I said, taking a sip of his coffee. “The original is by—”
    “The Velvet Underground, I know. God, what do you take me for, madam?” He eyed me, feigning offense.
    “Okay, okay, sorry.”
    “I’m a big fan, actually. But forgive me if I don’t want to listen to Lou Reed’s caterwauling every time my girl calls me.”
    My girl? My heart flip-flopped at the endearment.
    “So what was it before?” I asked, changing the subject, hoping he didn’t notice that my cheeks had flushed at his words.
    “Hmmm,” he said. Setting his phone on the counter, he cupped the back of my head and dove in to nuzzle my neck. “I just played it.”
    “No, you said you recently changed it,” I said, gasping as he nipped a sensitive spot just under my jaw.
    “No I didn’t,” he said. Sucking my earlobe into his mouth, he nibbled.
    “Yes you did,” I said, pushing at his chest. “You totally did, and the fact that you’re now denying it makes me all the more curious.”
    “Damn. Good job, Grayson,” he grumbled under his breath and picked up his phone. A moment later I heard it, the wailing grind of a guitar and then David Lee Roth declaring “Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I'm hot for teacher.”
    I