Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Instant heat spreads through my core and then sizzles like a wildfire through the rest of my body. My nipples tighten, my thighs ache. In the midst of the flames burning me inside and out, there was relief that at least he didn’t leave again, no matter how much I should want him to.
At this point, I have a flight to catch, along with Brock’s computer drive to copy. I need to get dressed sooner than later, but rather than move, I hold my ground, explaining myself. “You didn’t answer when I called you.” My fragile bravado is already faltering under the heat of his stare, my voice raspy. I clench the terrycloth at my chest. “I was afraid you were sick again.”
He just stares at me and says nothing, an animalistic quality crackling off him, edgy, dark—powerful. Hot. So very hot. I swallow hard, the sensual touch of his dark eyes flustering me, arousing me. “Say something,” I finally plead, so far beyond cool-headed and unaffected.
And still, Creed doesn’t speak—he simply stands there, immobile, his eyes locked on my scantily-clad body, sexual tension ratcheting up with each passing minute, impossible to resist. The desire between us had always been intense, but this…this is combustible, the lifebond connection we’ve denied for so very long, transforming the desire into something darker, more intense—all-consuming. As if the desire had a life and mind of its own.
Desperately, I cut my gaze and charge toward the closet. Touching him would be a mistake. It would cloud my judgment and skew my ability to judge the man beneath the lifebond. But I’d barely made it a few steps before he was there, pulling me into his arms.
“You didn’t really think you could walk out here in a towel without this happening, now did you?” he half growls a moment before his lips come down on mine.
Chapter Five
Addie
I don’t resist. I don’t have it in me. I let him kiss me. I’m helpless to stop him. I don’t want to stop him.
I lose myself in Creed in this moment, to his hot, hungry kiss, a mating of mouths that I cannot deny I’ve longed for. The spicy male scent of him seeming to pour through my body like an aphrodisiac. My hands are all over him, his all over me. It’s wildly exciting and intensely addictive. And there’s simply no fighting it, no understanding it. His hands are in my hair. Teeth nip, lips caress.
The towel disappears, my breasts press against his bare chest, his hands caressing over my body as he picks me up, one hand curving along my backside, the other laced through my hair. My arms wrap around his neck, and my legs around his waist. I cling to him, desperate to feel him close to me, inside me.
Somehow, someway, a semblance of real-life slips into my mind, and my fingers shove into his hair, pulling his mouth from mine. “You left,” I whisper hoarsely. “You left and never said a word.”
Our eyes collide much as our passion has—wild and emotional.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve ached to feel you like this again,” he confesses, his voice low and guttural. “How many times I was hard just thinking about it.”
It's not an answer, but somehow, it’s the only right thing in this moment. I quake with his words, shaken by the magnitude of the passion in them, though this solves nothing, explains nothing. But my body doesn’t care; my body simply wants and needs. Don’t ask a question you don’t want the answer to, my mother used to say. And so, I don’t ask for more.
Not now.
I can’t get enough of Creed. I cling to him. Crave him. Breathe him in even as his mouth slants over mine, punishing, hot, and as dominating as the man. There is nothing gentle about the way he kisses me or the way he claims me. He is raw, animalistic passion that drives away the past and leaves only this moment and then the next.
We go down on the bed, me on my back, his broad, masculine frame commanding mine, his lips traveling my jaw, my neck. He presses my breasts together, lapping at my nipples with his tongue, suckling and licking until my back arches in response. He rolls the stiff peaks with his fingers, tugs and nips to the point of stirring near pain in me, yet it’s so much pleasure. I’m panting, watching him in wonder, stunned that this is really happening. He lifts his head, his eyes finding mine, my breasts still intimately molded to his palms. Time seems to stop as the unanswered questions, the unspoken words, burn between us, a spell of sorts, holding us there and compelling us to deal with more than our physical need.
Abruptly, Creed pushes out of my embrace, standing up and reaching for his jeans.