Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
After a cold shower, she crawled into bed, wearing one of his jerseys she’d purchased when he played.
She overslept and woke to a banging on her door. Scrambling from bed, she hurried to open it, hoping nothing was wrong with Dawson. It was Linc.
It took her barely a second to realize she had answered the door in her sleep clothes. All she had on was his shirt and not even a pair of panties, given how aroused she’d been from the dream she’d been having when the pounding had jarred her from her sleep. Her nipples were taut and pressed against the thinning fabric as the shirt hung over her frame.
“Linc.” His name was rasped as it fell from her lips.
“Fuck, Freckles.” He reached for her, only to stop. “You’re killing me.”
She stepped back, letting him in, but didn’t want to turn so he could see her ass in the shirt so she pivoted and pressed against the door as it shut. He held a rolled-up sheet in his right hand and his left was a fist.
“You sleep in my shirt?”
“I have a daughter. I sleep in a shirt.”
His nostrils flared even as he gave her a look which she interpreted to mean he didn’t buy her statement for a second. “And this isn’t one I gave you. It’s older and has my number. How long have you had this?” He squeezed his eyes shut briefly.
“A few years.”
Linc pinned her to the door with his gaze, like she had the capability to walk anywhere as it was. He stepped closer and reached out to her with his left hand. When it settled along her hip, she sucked in a sharp breath and slammed her eyes shut. No dream could even begin to compare to something as simple as his real touch.
“Just a shirt? No panties?” He moved his hand up and down her hip like he was searching for a panty line.
His questions were whispered in her ear and she couldn’t bring herself to tip her head and look at him. Hell, the feelings racing through her far surpassed anything she’d felt the entire time she had been with Greer’s dad. Not like that had been a lot, but still.
“Freckles?”
She couldn’t formulate the words to ask him to finish her off, to kiss her and give her what she so desperately craved. Because he would break her when he refused. Instead, she curled her hands in his shirt, anchoring herself to this rock to weather the storm rolling within her.
His grip on her hip flexed and she heard something fall to the floor. Perhaps the item he’d held. Then his right hand settled on her other hip.
Linc trailed kisses down the curve of her neck and she whimpered without shame. He wedged one thick thigh between her legs and hers widened to accommodate.
“Nothing but perfect goddamn curves.” He nibbled on her neck while his right hand slipped between them. “I don’t have near enough time to pleasure you like you deserve and how I want, but I can take the edge off for you. Will you let me do that?” His fingertips hovered at her core but never advanced.
Damn him. She craved him and his caresses.
She rocked her hips against his leg and his groan filled her with power. Power she’d not had before. When the shirt she’d slept in lifted and his large hand settled over her belly, she tensed, all too aware of how much larger she was than the women he’d been photographed with in the past. But Linc took his time, stroking, making circles, all while he continued kissing and nibbling on her neck and shoulders. Words she didn’t understand flowed from his mouth but she understood the feeling.
“Freckles, I need the words.”
She tightened her hold on his shirt. “Yes.” A thousand times yes.
The word hadn’t even faded from the air before his hand slipped over her already damp skin. Hell, her favorite vibrator, large and with a suction cup for the shower—when necessary—still resided under her blankets. The moment Linc touched her, it faded from memory.
She arched for him, a wordless gasp sliding from her throat.
“So fucking wet.”
Her head rested against his chest, between where her hands had latched onto him. God help her, this was dangerous.
“Freckles,” he whispered as his fingers grazed up and down the wet slit. “Look at me.”
“Nope. Not a good idea, definitely not.”
His answer was to wrap her loose hair in one large fist and tug her back so she didn’t have a choice but to follow his directive.
“Look. At. Me.” His dark eyes held hers. “Know who you’re with, Freckles. Know who’s touching you like this. Who’s going to get you off, then fix you breakfast while you shower.”
“Linc.”
The brushing of their mouths was nearly a ghosting but she felt him. Like she felt his thumb stroking her clit, pulling a low moan from her. One thick finger dragged down and pushed into her, making her gasp once more. He didn’t let her hide from him. Eyes locked on hers, he slowly pumped the long digit into her. Body already slick and needy, it didn’t take much for her to reach the pinnacle she’d been denied earlier when she’d been interrupted. She bit the inside of her cheek when he added a second finger.