Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Reaching out, he cuts me off and pulls me to him. Without saying a word, he lowers his lips to mine and kisses me. Fervently. Taking my breath away.
His hands slide into my hair, and he tilts my head back, his mouth dominating mine. I want to be mad at him after what I found out today about him and Emilee, but I have no right to be. He had a life before me, and I can’t change that. I think that’s why I focused more on our upcoming fake engagement rather than what I really wanted to talk about.
Pulling away, I suck in a deep breath and open my eyes to look up at him. “You okay?” I ask softly, running my hands down his slick back, feeling how tense he is while the showerhead sprays it.
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. I already know the answer, and it’s no. Something is wrong. Instead, his eyes roam over my face and neck. They drop to my chest, and he licks his wet lips.
“Talk—”
His lips come down on mine again, cutting me off, and he spins us around, pushing my back to the wall. His hand drops to my thigh, and he lifts it up, wrapping it around his hip. Then he’s sliding into me without any foreplay. It hurts, forcing me to cry out into his mouth.
I pull away from his lips to suck in a breath, and he buries his face into my neck, not caring. He starts to fuck me, hard and fast, shoving my back into the warm tiled wall as the water comes down over us. And I let him take whatever he needs from me. He’s hurting. I can feel it in the way his fingers dig into my thigh. The way his breathing picks up and the fact that he refuses to look me in the eyes.
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. “It’s okay,” I tell him, not sure what he needs, just knowing that I want him to know I can give it to him.
He doesn’t let up. He slams into me harder, and my breath hitches. He drops his hand from my hair to my other thigh and lifts that as well, both of my feet now off the shower floor.
I wrap them around his narrow hips, hooking them together, trying to hang on to his wet and slippery body.
He grunts, his hands slapping on the wall above my head, and I tilt mine to the side to get fresh air because I’m choking on the water spraying on us from above.
This is nothing like the other times we’ve had sex. Even last night at The Palace felt intimate. This is a distraction for him.
I place both hands in his hair. “I’m here,” I tell him breathlessly, and he pulls back the best he can with my legs wrapped around him, slamming into me. “Right here.”
He’s being so rough that it’s painful, and tears start to sting my eyes, but I don’t stop him. I have a feeling this man is never as vulnerable as he is right now. So I take it. Let him use me. It feels nice to be needed for once. To help someone rather than cause pain.
“Dillan—”
He reaches up and slaps his hand over my mouth, shutting me up, and I close my eyes, breathing heavily through my nose. He lets out a groan, slamming into me once again, and I feel his body stiffen against mine while his cock pulses inside me.
We stay this way for a few seconds while he tries to catch his breath, and then he pulls his head from my neck and drops his hand from my mouth. I suck in a deep breath, swallowing some water. He lowers my feet to the floor, and I whimper when he pulls out. He takes a stumbling step back, running his hands through his dark hair to push it back from his face. His eyes stay on the floor. Without saying a word to me, he turns and exits the shower. Grabbing the towel hanging on the hook, he wraps it around himself and exits the bathroom.
I turn off the water and get out myself. Grabbing the spare towel, I wrap it around me and rush out to find the bedroom empty. I see the door to his closet open, and I walk in to see him getting dressed, pulling up a pair of dark gray slacks. “Where are you going?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“Work.” His answer is clipped.
I frown. “It’s almost four in the morning.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, just slides on a black button-up and starts buttoning it. Once done with that, he puts on socks and shoes. He turns to exit, but I stand, blocking it. “Talk to me,” I urge.