Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“That’s all right,” she said after a moment. “I enjoyed mine enough for the both of us.”
I felt my body sink farther into the couch as I watched her, as I imagined all the things I’d like to enjoy with her as well. My cock dug into my fly, my balls drawn up tight, and I couldn’t stop staring at her for the life of me.
“You’re going to give me a complex if you keep doing that,” she finally said softly after long moments of silence.
I cleared my throat. “Keep doing what?”
She’d since rested fully back on the couch, her long, dark hair fanned out around her, the scent of her driving me wild. She was so tiny compared to me, fragile almost.
“Staring at me.”
Her voice was soft, and although she had every right to be weirded out that I was looking at her constantly, her voice held a different note. A note that told me—maybe—she enjoyed me looking at her.
I didn’t respond to that, because I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t going to lie, not when I’d been caught red-handed, but the truth was I couldn’t find my fucking voice. Not when her blue eyes were trained right on me.
“Did you mean what you said yesterday?”
I swallowed roughly, blinking a few times to pull myself together. She’d changed subjects, thank fuck.
“What did I say?” Fuck, was that my voice, so husky and deep?
I saw the subtle changes in her body, the way her breathing picked up, the way her nipples became hard little beads under her shirt, the fact that her pupils dilated, and her mouth parted.
Sweet Jesus... is she getting turned on?
“The part where you said I looked pretty when I was annoyed at you.”
I swallowed again and again, my throat tight, my salivary glands working overtime. It seemed like I said those words a lifetime ago. Or maybe it just felt so distant because my mind had been so consumed with telling her how I felt today.
I inhaled and then exhaled just as slowly, knowing this was why I’d come here tonight, to finally be honest and truthful. But I was scared shitless—the first time in my life I’d ever felt real fear. And it was because I worried she’d deny me, that she’d tell me I’d been wrong, that she didn’t feel a fraction of the way I felt about her.
But I wouldn’t know unless I tried, right? I wouldn’t know unless I ripped open my chest and presented her my heart, hoping she didn’t destroy it with a few spoken words.
And she could. She could render me weak, because she didn’t know it, but Delilah had so much power over me.
I shifted on the couch so I could face her a little bit more. She was still looking at me, her cheeks flushed, her body still reacting in the way that made me think she was aroused, that my very presence turned her on.
“Yeah, I meant what I said.” Those words hung between us for long moments. I was afraid to say anything else, that I’d scare her away. “I meant that a hell of a fucking lot, Delilah.”
She sucked in a breath and sat up slightly, the long fall of her hair moving over her shoulders. My fingers itched to reach out and take hold of some of the strands, to rub them between my fingers and see if they were as soft as they looked.
And I had no doubt they were. Like spun silk.
“Why?” She didn’t have to emphasize what she meant.
We bickered back and forth. We always had. I got under her skin, annoyed her. I nitpicked, teased her. She got pissed at me and pushed back, her anger gasoline on my fiery arousal, burning me alive.
Because I love you.
Those words bounced around in my head over and over again, but they refused to come out. They refused to hang in the air between us like all the rest of the words that had spilled out of my mouth.
“Because you mean a lot to me. You mean the most to me,” I said softer this time and stared into her eyes. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, Delilah.” I’d never spoken truer words out loud. And although they weren’t anywhere near how deep my feelings for her went, they were a start.
She was a goddess. She was beautiful and perfect. Delilah was mine even though she didn’t know it, even though I’d never even touched her in the way I yearned to.
We stared at each other, the air thickening between us, my heart pounding so hard I had no doubt she probably heard it, maybe even saw my shirt move from the rapid beat of that organ against my ribs.
There was something shifting in the air, something that called to the most basic, primal—male—part of me.