Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“I love you,” I gasped, his fingers teasing me with featherlight, wet touches over that bundle of nerves.
I didn’t stop moving, didn’t slow down. Couldn’t. Not when we’d raced down this road together, damn the consequences.
“Fuck, Bristol,” he growled, increasing that pressure. “I love you,” he whispered at the same time he pressed his thumb against my clit, working me in slow, hard circles while I rode him.
“Cormac!” I screamed, every inch of my body aching, my heart racing.
He hardened to the nth degree inside me, thrusting up over and over again with reckless abandon until all I could do was grip his shoulders and hold the fuck on while he sent me to another planet.
“God, yes, Cormac!” I moaned as he pushed me over that edge, my body crackling as we collided. I shattered around him just as he found his release inside me, the sensation so damn hot it propelled one orgasm right into another until I was a shaking, panting mess atop him. My muscles loosened, my entire mind buzzing with a brilliant haze of bliss as I dropped my forehead against his.
His ragged breaths matched mine as he held me, the water settling around us. We sat there like that, the moment stretched between us in one exquisite strand made entirely of us.
“I’ll stay,” he said as he toweled me off.
My heart leaped to my throat. “Really?”
He smoothed a hand over my cheek, smiling down at me. “We’ll catch that flight,” he said. “If it gives me a few more hours with you? Worth it.” He sealed his words with a kiss, and as I leaned into it, I knew there was nothing that could ever beat this.
15
Cormac
What the hell was that sound?
I blinked myself awake, blindly reaching for my cell phone on the nightstand and fumbling for a second before I got a grip on it. For fuck’s sake, it sounded like something was at war with the house. The frame creaked and groaned with every gust of what I guessed had to be wind…or a freight train. Either one seemed possible to my sleep-addled brain.
5:42. Three minutes before I’d set my alarm to go off. Our flight was supposed to take off from Kingston in two hours.
I shut off the impending alarm and carefully slipped my arm from under Bristol so I didn’t wake her. The hardwood floor was chilly under my feet as I pulled on my boxer briefs, locating them with the help of the flashlight on my phone. The room was pitch black since we’d drawn the blinds last night.
With a tug of the string, I raised the roman shade over the giant picture window opposite the bed. My jaw hit the fucking floor.
What. The. Actual. Hell.
Rain pounded on the very glass that had shown nothing but a starry sky last night. Outside, the wind howled, whipping the tree branches against the house with all the delicacy of dozens of battering rams.
“Oh, my God,” Bristol whispered, coming to stand next to me with the blanket wrapped around her.
“Where the hell did this come from?” I shouted, mostly to myself. The rain was so thick the visibility was nearly nothing.
“I…” She shook her head, just as confused as I was. “I knew there was a storm coming in, but it was supposed to be farther north later today, not this morning.” Trailing the blankets behind her like a royal robe, she walked back to the bed, reaching for her phone.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” I called back over the roar of what sounded like a hurricane. I didn’t need the staff of GQ seeing Bristol wrapped up in nothing but a blanket, that was for sure.
“Angela,” came the muffled voice through the door.
“One second,” I replied, then tugged my jeans on while Bristol wiggled her way into leggings and my Reaper hoodie.
“Come in,” Bristol answered, pulling her hair up into a knot on the top of her head.
“Good morning!” Angela came through the door fully dressed and balancing two cups of coffee. “Here you go.” She handed one to me and then one to Bristol.
“Thanks,” I said, noting it was black, exactly how I liked it. Angela was good.
“Thank you. You’re up early,” Bristol said, sitting on the edge of the bed and sipping her blonde-colored coffee.
“Wind kept me up from about four,” Angela admitted.
“I knew it was going to be a little windy, but I thought the majority of the storm was supposed to go north?” Bristol asked, putting on her socks and a pair of Converses.
I set my coffee on the dresser and tugged on the T-shirt, then the socks from my bag. Good thing I’d packed extras since I hadn’t planned on spending last night here with Bristol. We needed to get going. It was a half-hour drive to the Kingston airport during good weather, let alone whatever the hell this was.