Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
"Now you're always with me," he says, reaching out to tug on my ponytail. He smiles at me and then drops to his knees in front of me. His hand disappears into his pocket only to reappear a second later with a small jewelry box, which sends my heart into overdrive.
"I was going to give this to you later, but I'm thinking you should have it now," he says, looking me in the eyes.
My hands shake when he pops it open and slips out a ring. It's a gorgeous platinum band with a heart-shaped emerald. The gemstone is surrounded by a delicate pair of hands, with a crown nestled over the top. A small diamond rests in the center. It's beautiful.
"You ever see a Claddagh ring before?" he asks me, reaching for my right hand and slipping it onto my ring finger.
I shake my head.
"A Claddagh ring is an Irish ring. The hands symbolize friendship, the crown represents loyalty, and the heart symbolizes love," he says, running a fingertip over each part of the ring as he tells me about them. "Worn like this, on the right hand, with the point of the heart facing the wrist, it means you're taken."
Before I can tell him that I love it, he slides it off my finger and grasps my left hand.
"But I'm thinking it'd look better right here," he says, sliding it onto my left ring finger with the point of the heart facing my fingertips. Intense satisfaction flares in his eyes, turning them that stormy gray color I love so much.
"What does it mean this way?" I whisper, my heart in my throat at seeing the possessive look in his eyes with his ring on my finger. He told me he would put a ring on my finger one day. I just didn't expect it to be now. Holy crap.
"It means you're engaged," he whispers back, shifting his gaze from my hand to my face. "I'm not gonna ask you, though, baby girl. When you're ready, you're going to marry me. I know you are."
"You do, huh?"
He nods, his expression so solemn and serious. "I refuse to believe there's a future for us that doesn't end with you tying your life to mine. That's how this thing between us was always meant to be, January. You were meant to be mine, and I was meant to be yours. We belong together. We always have." He leans down and presses a kiss to my ring before sliding his mouth over mine in a sweet little kiss. "I'll be the best fucking husband, little monster. You'll never want for anything."
"I want something now," I whisper against his lips, twining my arms around his neck.
"What?"
"You. I want you."
He groans long and low, then pushes me gently until I'm sprawled on the bed beneath him, a big smile on my face. He runs his hands up my legs, parting my thighs and pushing the material of my skirt up as he goes. His eyes are locked on the flesh of my thighs as he exposes them.
"Did you wear this pretty skirt for me, baby girl?" he asks, wrapping his hands around my thighs. He's so much bigger than me, so much harder. But he touches me like I'm priceless.
I don't feel small or fragile with him, though. I feel powerful, like the strongest woman in the world. The devotion and need flaring in his blue-gray eyes tells me louder than any words ever could that he needs me…aches for me. He's always looked at me like that, but it's brighter now, blazing like the sun.
"Yes," I whisper, licking my lips when he fans his hands open so his pinkies come to rest against the apex of my thighs. They brush across the bottom edge of my panties.
"You going to let me eat you before you ride my cock?" he asks, his voice deep and low, hungry…like he's already imagining my taste on his tongue.
The thought makes me squirm beneath him. So do the dirty words rolling from his lips in that decadent whisper.
He's good at the dirty talk. Hearing him say the things he does gets me so hot. Those words coming from his lips aren't obscene or offensive. They're sexy as hell.
"Yes," I whisper again. "Please, Cade. I need you."
He groans and leans forward, burying his face between my thighs.
I clutch the comforter and moan when he presses his nose to the seam of my panties and inhales deeply.
"Christ, you smell so damn good. My mouth is watering, baby girl." He puts his mouth over my panties, licking at the wet spot I know is there.
I feel like I'm always wet when he's around. Once we started having sex a couple of months before I turned seventeen, I think I became addicted to it. I want it all the time with him.