Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Then tighter, tighter—
There.
I breathe his name as I come. My head falls back. My nails dig into his skin. Hard enough he growls.
My sex pulses, pulling him closer, taking him deeper. It's so much. So intense I'm sure I'm going to swallow him whole.
It pushes him to the brink.
He rocks into me again. Then he comes.
He groans my name, thrusting into me as he spills every drop.
Mine.
For this perfect moment, he's mine.
And I'm his.
And we understand each other completely.
When he's finished, he sets me down, unties my wrists, cleans me up, helps me into my clothes.
Fixes his.
We emerge to an empty room. A locked door. I don't ask how much he paid the saleswoman for the privacy.
I don't care.
This is perfect.
Nothing is knocking me off my high.
Chapter Forty
Jasmine
Technically, Rome isn't the city of love. But it feels like it.
We spend our days walking around the quaint streets. Eating fresh pasta. Licking gelato from cones. Tossing coins in the Trevi fountain.
We find the best espresso shop in Italy. Shep groans over the subtle chocolate notes.
I add an extra bag of sugar. Even then, I barely make it through my tiny macchiato.
He insists I try again, so the next day, I order a latte. Add only a single bag of sugar.
Ick.
He laughs at my expression. Presses his lips to mine. Says he's never seen anything better. Well, not while I was dressed.
I force him to order a weak tea from the café where we grab lunch, but it doesn't really make my point. The tea is bad because it lacks flavor. Not because it scalds the taste buds.
Still, I try the coffee again. Let him buy me pistachio gelato to make it up to me.
Let him make it up to me in much more interesting ways.
I insist on a trip to the Coliseum, but the enormous ruins aren't enough to keep me away from the hotel. When Shep asks if I want to stay or go—
We spend the afternoon in bed.
He gets naked with me.
Yes, he holds my arms over my head. Yes, I come the second he brings his hand to my throat. Yes, I love how he's in control.
But there's something about him trusting me like this. About feeling every inch of his skin against mine.
Raking my nails against his back.
So, when we arrive home after dinner and take off our clothes, I offer him my hand. I let him lead. I let him show me where to touch him.
Then I stop waiting for his permission.
I run my hands through his hair. I dig my nails into his back. I bring my lips to his neck.
I kiss him like I'll never get enough.
Because I won't.
I really won't.
Even our return flight is heavenly. Six quiet hours with a book.
Okay, the shitty tea isn't great. But there's something fresh waiting at home.
Oolong, raspberry teacakes, and reality.
All these wedding plans to finalize. Details to figure out. A guest list to double-check.
Shep's stepfather is coming. That makes sense. He is practically his dad.
Or it should.
But when I scour the Internet for hints of Shep and Lucien's contact, I find nothing. No business deals. No social media. No interviews where one mentions the other.
It's like they don't know each other.
And Shep certainly wasn't fond of his stepfather.
So why is he sitting in the front row at our wedding?
Why does Shep change the subject when I ask if he's coming to the rehearsal dinner?
I always thought there was something there, some reason why their relationship was strained, but there's no way…
That's not possible.
Is it?
Chapter Forty-One
Shepard
Jasmine draws every eye as she steps into the restaurant. It's not just the rock on her ring finger or the jeweled clip in her fancy updo or the gorgeous gauzy dress skimming her tan skin.
Her smile is radiant.
It's brighter than the sun.
And it's for me.
Sure, this isn't a conventional arrangement. But she's happy. She's beaming at the thought of saying I do.
Ian lifts his glass to toast. "Your bride is too pretty for you."
"You need new material." I don't have a better comeback. He's right. She is gorgeous. And she's my bride. Today, it feels like a triumph. All triumph.
It doesn't matter how we got here. Who pulled which strings.
It only matters that she's mine.
Forever.
In two days, it's official.
My body gets light as my eyes meet hers. Her smile shifts to something softer. Something that promises her body as much as it promises her heart.
Then her father takes her arm and she blushes at her dirty thoughts. Turns to her aunts. Joins them for a drink.
This is a smaller rehearsal dinner. A dozen people.
Her father, her aunts, Nick and Lizzy, Ian.
It almost seems normal, my small display of family.
Fuck. Ian is half of my family. Where have I gone wrong?
I watch Jasmine's aunt Quyen talk her into a gin and tonic. "We have four varieties of Fever Tree."