Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
His fingers curl, biting into my waist before slipping beneath my sweater and stroking up my ribcage until they reach the elastic band of my bra. He strums the material as his gaze stays pinned to mine.
“Please,” I whisper. My voice comes out sounding so guttural that I barely recognize it as my own.
Flames leap in his heavy-lidded eyes as his hands slide around to my front, settling over each breast. Another tortured sound is choked from me when he squeezes them, palming the soft flesh as if trying to learn their weight and shape.
It’s funny—all right, maybe not funny. I’ve been out with a half a dozen guys. I’ve kissed them, had sex, but none have managed to turn me on quite like this. The way Ryder revs me up is almost an epiphany of sorts. I never realized I was capable of all this delicious sensation ricocheting through my body.
Any moment, I’ll burst at the seams.
It reminds me of the romance novel I’ve been reading and the way the heroine got so turned on. The hero understood exactly what to do without her having to say a word. He knew her body and needs better than she did. That’s the way it feels with Ryder. Somehow, he just understands what will feel good. He knows when to apply a little more pressure or tease until I’m on the cusp of falling apart.
Like now.
His fingers delve inside the silky cups, shoving them down until there’s nothing to cover them except the soft sweater. The knitted fabric slides over my pebbled nipples, stirring even more sensation within me before his thumb and forefinger wrap around the stiff little buds, tugging at them in tandem.
He breaks eye contact long enough to glance around the dark parking lot before shoving the sweater up until the material bunches at my collarbone. His gaze slices to my bare breasts as his hands pluck at them before palming and squeezing the softness.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says with a groan.
My eyelids feather closed as I arch against the leather steering wheel as if I’m offering myself up as a sacrifice.
This girl…the wanton one in the front seat of his truck isn’t me.
It’s never been me.
I have no idea who she is or where she came from.
I just know that I like it. It’s as if I’m attempting to break free of the protective shell that’s been wrapped around me my entire life. Ryder makes me feel things I didn’t know were possible, and I’m eager to explore it all.
I gasp when the warmth of his mouth closes over one nipple, drawing it deep inside before sucking it. The velvetiness of his tongue strokes over me, setting fire to my blood. My head lolls back as I press closer, greedy for more of the sensation that reverberates through my veins.
Just when I think I’ll explode, he pops my nipple free and brings the other taut peak to his mouth, giving that one the same ardent attention as the first. My hands rise until the fingers can tunnel through his blond hair, holding him to my chest.
I can’t help but grind against his thick length. By this point, my panties are completely drenched. I’m sure he can feel through the layers that separate us just how turned on I am.
From kissing…
Okay, maybe a little bit more than kissing.
He releases the other stiff bud and growls, “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m gonna come in my jeans.”
The thought of being able to provoke such a response from him turns me on more than I thought possible. I lift my head until our gazes can lock. He’s stretched out on the seat and his head is pressed against the cushion. His eyelids are at half-mast and a tortured expression mars his face.
One I never thought would be directed at me.
It’s an intoxicating sensation.
“Maybe I want you to come,” I whisper.
His teeth sink into his lower lip, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as Ryder McAdams in this moment.
The way he’s staring…
Like he’s fighting the spiked need rampaging through him.
Need I stoked to life.
Me.
Unable to help myself, I flex my hips. His hands settle on them as if to anchor me in place. Another groan escapes from him as he arches to meet the movement. My eyes nearly roll back in my head as I ride him.
I lean forward, wanting to close the distance between us until my lips can press against the column of his throat. My teeth sink into the firm hollow before sucking the skin into my mouth. The muscles constrict as my tongue laves the abraded flesh.
The notion of marking him makes my core throb with new and painful awareness. It’s a primitive need I’ve never experienced before. I’ve caught sight of other people with hickeys and thought it was gross and childish.