Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Sweet Jesus.
I back away another step and then another, eyeing him warily as I try to decide if I should make a run for it and pray like I hell I get a door locked between us before he catches me, or if I should stay right where I am and let him show me all those filthy things that glint in his eye tells me he's so, so willing to deliver.
"Stop," he says, kicking the door to my apartment closed.
I immediately stop walking backward and drop my gaze to the floor. The laptop bag in my hand goes with it, falling with a dull thud to the carpeting at my feet.
Detective Lewis strides toward me, barely making a sound, or maybe he's stomping, and I just can't hear him over the pounding of my heart. He stops in front of me and wraps his hand around the side of my neck, tilting my chin up until my gaze meets his.
"You're a submissive little thing, aren't you?" he asks.
Submissive?
What?
"I'm not…."
He must see the shock on my face because his eyes widen and then that wicked smirk tips the corners of his lips up. The dark, smooth sound of his laugh rips through me, exactly like it did on the phone the other day. His finger sweeps across my bottom lip.
"Oh, kitten, you are definitely submissive," he says, flashing me that dimple.
"I'm―"
He cocks a brow and I instantly stop talking.
Okay, so maybe I am a little submissive. Just a tiny bit.
"Your mouth drives me crazy." He runs his thumb over my lip again. I think he's talking to himself more than me this time, his gaze distracted as it follows the path of his finger. "I can't stop thinking about it. I bet those lips would feel like velvet around my cock, wouldn't they?"
Those murmured, filthy words should offend the hell out of me. Instead, they pull a low moan from somewhere deep inside. I can't look away from him. The heat in his gaze, the way his lips move as they shape each syllable, and the sight of his pulse thrumming in his throat…everything about him in this moment is hypnotic, ensnaring me in his spell. I can't drag myself away from him. I don't want to pull away.
"I didn't expect you to be able to sing like a fucking goddess. Christ, that beautiful voice. And then you stood up there and called me out in front of everyone for staring at you? Like I could look away, Ivy. Like anyone could," he mutters. "Goddamn. I just need one little taste before I help you."
Before I can ask what he means by 'help me', his mouth is on mine. After one moment of relief for the mouthwash and breath mints he had tucked away in his car, my brain ceases to function.
He kisses me like he can't get enough, his lips sweeping across mine in gentle brushes before an animalistic groan vibrates in his throat and he goes deeper. His tongue plunges into my mouth to dance across mine as he pulls me closer, one hand tangled in my hair to angle my head, the other on my ass, lifting me into him.
I cry out when he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and bites down. The slight sting has me thrusting my hands into his hair as I try to climb his muscular body. His scent surrounds me, drugging me. God, he smells delicious, like heat and liquid sex.
"Knew it," he mumbles against my lips. "Fucking knew you'd go wild as soon as I had my hands on you."
He shifts against me and his erection presses into my stomach. He's massive, thick and hard as a rock. My entire body goes up in flames as he pulls me closer. Our tongues dance together before breaking apart and then coming together again. He keeps me in place with that hand in my hair as he palms my round ass through my skirt, kneading and massaging.
He's hard everywhere, his body firm and unyielding as muscles bunch and ripple with each movement he makes. The silk of his tie is cool against my overheated skin, the fabric of his suit as soft as Egyptian cotton.
"Wh-what are you doing to me?" I gasp, delirious with pleasure.
"Claiming what's mine," he says, nipping my bottom lip.
I should tell him no, that I'm not his. Something in the back of my mind tries to tell me there's a reason I can't be…a very good reason. But with his hands on me, I don't remember what it is. With his hands on me, it doesn't seem important. This does. The way he feels against me. The way he holds me. How intoxicating his kisses are.
He's my own personal storm, and I desperately want to let him rage.