Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“So feisty, my little bride.”
“This is me calm.”
The man groans. Groans.
It’s deep and masculine and when he draws himself closer, our bodies now pressed together, I suck in a breath. I have a gun to this man’s throat, and not just any gun, but his gun, in his home. I could pull the trigger and end him right here, right now. His entire legacy would fall, just like that.
He has no heir.
No family as far as blood goes.
He has you, Boston. You’re supposed to give him his heir. Secure his legacy. Make it stronger than ever before.
This time I do swallow.
I am his wife. He is my husband, but we may as well be strangers.
Strangers don’t treat your pussy like the world’s best ice cream in the middle of the stairwell.
I push the thought away as quickly as I can, refocusing.
I’m not delusional. He could have disarmed me by now if he really wanted to, but he hasn’t so much as made a move to try, and I don’t understand why.
He doesn’t know me, so…why is he trusting me with his life?
I push the gun harder into his skin, needing him to snap, to fight for control and fuel the hatred I have to hold on to. He doesn’t, and as I shove the muzzle into his skin, Enzo’s head falls to the side, his lips parted, and my gaze drops to the thick corded vein there, running from his jawline all the way down, disappearing beneath the collar of his dress shirt.
His pulse pounds before my eyes, hard and heavy, right there beneath my kiss, permanently marked into his heated flesh.
Before I know what I’m doing, my knuckle has stretched from where it’s wrapped around the grip, greedily giving in to its own need to touch his now perfectly healed tattoo.
His eyes close, chest rumbling at the feeling, and the sound sends sparks across my skin, doubling down when he shifts the slightest bit.
My husband is hard. Thick and long and pressed against my hip. Suddenly there’s a hollow ache between my legs, begging to be filled. Stretched.
I have no doubt he’d leave an addicting burn behind.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but my body seems happy to take control, as I’m on my toes, tongue flicking out without permission, licking across my lips on his skin. His salty, musky flavor explodes across my tongue and I think I start to shake.
I know I do when Enzo’s hand slides under my ass, yanking me harder against his erection, his giant palm clenching my ass cheek so hard it might bruise. He moans, long and loud into my ear, and I grow dizzy at the masculine sound. My eyes close, my forehead falling to his shoulder as I try to settle myself.
His fingertips bite into my skin, his free hand driving into my hair, yanking just slightly. He rolls my head to the side, stretching my neck wide and long until my eyes are forced to be locked with his.
My mouth opens, but before I can so much as form a word, I’m spun, my ass now to his front, the gun tossed to the bed as his back hits the wall, arms locking around my middle to keep me where he wants me.
I fight in his grip, but he only chuckles, low and deep, in my ear.
“If you can’t tell, I’m enjoying the struggle.” He grinds his hips against me.
I clench my eyes closed, my mouth pressing into a firm line, forcing myself to stop moving.
“I watch you, you know.” Enzo’s chest inflates with a full breath, his rough palms running long, hot strokes along my arms. “When you eat, when you sleep.”
“That’s not creepy.”
He hums, deep in his throat. “I watch the sweat build across your skin when you dance until you can hardly walk…which we will talk about one day. I watch you when you read, zooming in a little closer when I spot a flush creep up your neck.”
Anger heats my blood, embarrassment keeping my muscles stiff, but it’s the raw flame of need that keeps my mouth closed.
I shouldn’t enjoy hearing this.
I should not get turned on learning my husband has not only robbed me of the future I thought he was giving me, but my privacy as well.
I should slam my head back into his face, break his nose and then his trachea.
Instead, I sink my teeth into my lower lip, pressing my ass into him a little more, and I’m rewarded with a single grind of his hips against mine.
“Did you finish the one you started two days ago?” he wonders. “The one where he sat her on his lap and told her to move like he was inside her?”
I gape, trying to turn and look at him, but he dips his face into my neck, and a strangled sound slips past my throat when his teeth bite down on the sensitive spot there. “How did you—”