Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The ride home was quiet, and Coen didn’t say a word as he got out of my car and followed me onto the porch.
As I slip my key into the lock, Coen presses his body into my backside. His palms rest against the door, and he effectively cages me in with his size and body heat.
My breath freezes, and I hold still.
Nuzzling at my nape, he murmurs, “Scared, Tillie?”
It’s the first time he’s used my nickname that I haven’t minded. I shake my head.
“Nervous?” His lips graze my neck as one arm circles around my waist to hold me back against him.
“A little,” I admit in a whisper, ashamed to admit it.
“Don’t be.” His other hand comes over mine, still holding the key in the lock, and he helps me turn it. “I promise you’ll go to sleep with a smile on your face tonight.”
I remember how after we had sex a week ago, he got dressed and walked out. He said he wasn’t a nice man, even though he was a generous lover, but he still walked out.
Will I be hurt when he walks out again tonight?
Possibly, but I’m willing to risk it. Because while he confounds me completely, he fascinates me like no other person ever has.
And I want him.
I turn the knob and push my door open. Coen releases his hold on me, and I enter my house. He follows and shuts the door behind him.
When I turn back to look at him, he’s flipping the porch light on. I doubt it’s for safety reasons but merely to prove the point I’m letting him in.
I drop my purse on the couch and toss my keys there.
“Come here,” he says, not moving from the door.
Frowning, I tip my head in question.
“Come here and prove to me that you want me here. You won’t hurt my feelings if you’re having second thoughts.”
My frown deepens. “I’m not having second thoughts.”
“You should.”
“Are you trying to scare me?” I ask as I walk up to him.
He stares down at me, eyes dark with desire. Coen’s hand moves to my jaw, and he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ve observed you in a lot of different scenarios these last few weeks, and I don’t think there’s a single thing you’re scared of.”
I blink with surprise because he makes it sound like a compliment.
“I also think you’re incredibly smart and you have to be questioning the logic of getting involved with someone like me. I want you to prove to me you want me here.”
My breath feathers out in a sigh, and I slip my hands around the back of his neck. Going to my tiptoes, I pull him down so his mouth is forced to meet mine.
I actually feel Coen relax, as if he’d been afraid I might push him out the door. His arms band around me and his tongue slides against mine in a dance of lust and need.
My world tilts as Coen sweeps me up into his arms. Not the same way he carried me before with my legs around his waist and his hands gripping my ass, but cradled in his arms as he walks to my room.
And still his mouth is on mine.
Only my bedside lamp is on, and the room is muted in a soft glow. Coen sets me on my feet, puts his hands to my cheeks, and kisses me again. He’s barely touched me, and I’m already electric with need, mainly because of all the sinful promises he’s made.
Pulling back, his hands go to the hem of my shirt, and he tugs it up and over my head. For a long moment, he just stares at my breasts before flicking the front clasp open so they spill free of my bra.
I have a moment of self-consciousness as he takes me in. I’ve never been ashamed of my body size, the clothes I wear, my freckles, or that my hair is so curly.
I don’t care that my nose isn’t perfect and my eyes are a little too wide.
I’ve never tried to impress anyone with airs, and all I know is how to be my authentic self. It’s always been enough for anyone who deserved to be in my inner circle, and yet at this moment, a frisson of doubt courses through me. My arms move on instinct to cover myself.
Coen frowns, his hands latching on to my wrists. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, but it turns into a moan as his palms cup me. His thumbs graze over my nipples, and I moan louder.
“Why would you want to hide this from me?” he asks in a low voice of wonder, but he’s talking to himself.
“I… don’t understand you,” I say, and his eyes, previously focused on my chest, rise to meet mine in question. “Why me?”