Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
His breathing changes, and there’s a war in his eyes that I’m determined to win.
It’s time to stop dancing around this unbearable tension and break it.
He leans down, his mouth only inches from mine. “And I’m telling you that I’m the last thing you need.” The barely leashed growl of his voice rumbles up through his chest, and every nerve ending in my body flares to life.
“Are you suggesting someone else?” My heart races as I chance calling his bluff.
“Fuck no.” The unmistakable flare of jealousy narrows his eyes for a heartbeat before his hips pin mine to the door, and my instant relief at his answer is replaced by a jolt of pure lust. I can see that infamous control of his hovering on the edge, balancing precariously on the point of a knife. All he needs is one. Little. Push. And I’m about to shamelessly shove.
“Good.” I tilt my head up to his and draw his bottom lip between mine, sucking before gently nipping him with my teeth. “Because I only want you, Xaden.”
The words breach something within him, and he gives.
Finally.
Our mouths collide, and the kiss is hot and hard and completely out of our control. Need streaks down my spine as he takes my ass in his hands and hauls me against his hips, my back raking the ridges of the door behind me as I use it as leverage to push closer to his strength.
I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles. My dressing gown rises with the motion, but I don’t care, not with the all-consuming way he’s kissing me. The caress of his mouth and the strokes of his wicked tongue steal every logical thought, and my world narrows to this kiss, this minute, this man. Mine. In this moment, Xaden Riorson is mine.
Or maybe I’m his. Who fucking cares as long as he keeps kissing me?
Heat floods my body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of my skin aflame as his mouth slides down my neck in a sensual assault that makes me moan.
“Gods,” he says against my throat, and then we’re moving.
Wood scrapes the floor and crashes before my ass hits the desk, and my ankles fall from the small of his back when he leans over me, spearing his fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck as he takes my mouth again. I kiss him back with a hunger I’ve only known with him.
My hands fly back to brace my weight, knocking anything and everything out of my way, sending whatever careening to the floor. The clock stops ticking.
“You’ll hate me in the morning. You. Don’t. Really. Want. This.” He punctuates each word with a kiss along my jaw, making his way to my ear. He bites the lobe, and my core liquefies, going molten.
“Stop telling me what I want.” I breathe raggedly and thread my fingers through the short strands of his hair, tilt my head, giving him better access. He takes it, working his way down my neck to where it curves into my shoulder.
Fuck, that feels good. Every touch of his mouth to my heated skin is flame to kindling, and I suck in a sharp breath when he lingers on a sensitive spot, taking his time. But then he stills again, his breath hot and wet against the side of my neck.
My brow furrows with an unwelcome thought. “Unless you don’t want me.”
“Does this feel like I don’t want you?” He takes my hand and slides it between our bodies, and my fingers curl around his length through his leathers. I whimper with pure want at the feel of how hard he is for me.
“I always fucking want you.” He groans as I squeeze. Then he lifts his head, seizes my gaze with his, and I recognize the wild need in those gold-flecked depths. It mirrors my own. “You walk into a room, and I can’t look away. I get anywhere near you, and this is what happens. Instantly hard. Fucking hell, I can barely think when you’re around.” He rocks his hips into my hand, and my grip tightens along with my stomach. “Wanting you is not the problem here.”
“Then what is?”
“I’m trying to do the honorable thing and not take advantage of you after you’ve had a shit day.” His jaw flexes.
I smile and kiss the side of his mouth. “It’s always a shit day around here. And it’s not taking advantage when I’m asking”—my teeth nip at his lips—“correction, begging you to make my day better.”
“Violet.” He says my name like a warning, as if he’s something I should be wary of. Violet. He only says my name when it’s just the two of us, when all the walls and the pretenses fall away, and gods if I don’t want to hear it again and again, just like that.