Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Harder.
Her whole body jolted with each thrust.
“Work your clit for me,” I growled, annoyed that I was down one hand, that I couldn’t do it myself. “Now,” I demanded, giving her hair a little tug that had her hissing, then letting out a little moan.
One of her hands left the wall to slide between her legs, engaging her clit as I continued to fuck her, to drive her up.
I felt the tightening of her walls as her moans got louder and louder, loud enough that anyone who happened to be in the hallway would have no doubt what was going on in my room. But she didn’t seem to care. And I sure as fuck didn’t as I drove her up and through an orgasm that had her legs shaking, almost buckling.
She took me with her, cursing out her name, and damn near blacking out for a moment with the intensity.
Afterward, I tossed the condom, then reached for her, pulling her back against me, holding her lightly with my casted hand as my other went for the loofah, sudsing it up, then slowly working it over her body.
On a sigh, she leaned back into me, her eyes closed, soaking up the sensations.
I couldn’t reach up to her hair. And when I was done and she moved under the water to rinse, she didn’t do it either.
“You okay?” I asked, seeing the far away look in her eyes.
“I’m tired,” she admitted, giving me a soft smile. “It’s been a long day.”
You could say that again.
“Let’s go to bed then,” I suggested, cutting off the water, then reaching for the towel, handing it to her to dry off with.
She did, wrapped it around herself, then got another for me, carefully drying the bits of me that were safe to.
Then she wrapped up my ribs, and treated the rashes before moving out into my bedroom, sticking her head into the hall, then making a mad dash across it in her towel.
Alone, more than a little disappointed since I’d meant that we should go to bed together, I fumbled my way into some underwear, then made my way to the bed.
I had just gotten on it, when the door burst open once again.
And there she was.
Still in her towel.
But holding some clothes to her chest. And… her laptop.
I said nothing, just watched as she stuck the laptop and clothes on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, then glanced at me before flicking off the tuck in her towel.
“Don’t,” I demanded, shaking my head when she went to grab for the panties from the pile of clothes.
“Don’t what?” she asked, eyes wide, like maybe she thought I was going to tell her not to get into bed with me.
“Don’t put any clothes on,” I told her. “You won’t need them.”
“Um… you have underwear on,” she told me.
“Shit. How did that happen?” I asked, smirking as I pulled them off, much to her amusement. But there was just a little heat under that smile of hers as she climbed on the bed.
Like she was willing to go again.
The woman was going to be the death of me.
But, fuck, what a way to go.
Luckily, I was pretty sure shit was going somewhere, so there was plenty of time to figure out just how many orgasms would be enough to get her good and satiated.
She shifted in at my side, but didn’t try to move on top of me, worried about hurting me.
Reaching out, I grabbed her thigh, yanking it over my hip.
“Nothing wrong with my shoulder,” I told her, then waited for her to rest her head there.
Her arm settled on the other side of my body, a light pressure on my aching ribs, but I barely felt it.
Because right there, at that very moment, I was pretty sure I was falling in love with this woman.
Unfortunately for the two of us, she had no fucking idea the shit I had done.
The same shit that was making men chase after us.
The ones who were putting her in danger.
I would tell her.
Eventually.
After the meetings were done.
Unfortunately, it seemed like that might be a little too late…
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maeve
I slept, then woke up in the middle of the night with Donovan fast asleep next to me.
And I was feeling a little, let’s just say… inspired.
Quietly as I could, I grabbed my laptop, sat up in the bed, lowered the light on the screen, then got to work.
I don’t know how long I typed, I was so focused.
But when a hand touched me, shaking me out of my little world I was creating, my hands were aching from the typing.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” I asked, looking over at him.
“You were fucking focused,” he said, giving me a sleepy smile. “Been watching you for a few minutes.”
Crap.
Which meant he was watching me while I wrote the spiciest scene I’d ever worked on in my life.