Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
His brow unfurrowed, and I laid on my back beside him. He would be awake soon. Five hours, he’d said, and then we needed to be on our way. I thought he could do with a full night’s sleep, but he’d been adamant. Five hours.
I closed my eyes, lulled by the quiet inhale and exhale of his breathing. I’d slept so much in the car, but after four and a half hours of lying in the dark, tiredness was beginning to creep up on me. Just a short nap. A few minutes to take the edge off.
But when I woke up, Derek was no longer lying next to me. I caught sight of the note he’d left on his pillow though, and knew he’d be back shortly. But now what? Alone in the motel room, I didn’t know what to do. For so long, I’d both dreaded and longed for the moment he’d walk into my room—my prison. But I wasn’t his captive anymore. I had no idea what he expected from me! Stay in bed? Kneel beside it? Tidy the room?
Finding no clear answer, I opted for a shower. It could be days before he stopped again, and I wanted to be clean in case…
My cheeks flamed at the thoughts that came to mind. I pushed them away, stepping beneath the showerhead and trying not to think about how my skin seemed ultra-sensitive, waiting, longing for his touch. Or the way my nipples pebbled beneath my own fingertips, and sent tiny shivers of arousal to the pulsing heat between my thighs.
When I stepped out of the shower, I dried briskly and wrapped the towel around me. I was just tucking it between my breasts, my thoughts lost in the memory of the feel of his hands on me when I stepped out of the bathroom and found Derek coming in the door to our room.
I dropped to my knees automatically and watched his shoes as he approached. He leaned down and took my hand without saying a word. He lifted me up onto my feet and then stroked my face. I leaned into the palm of his hand. His touch had the power to soothe and ignite at the same time.
“You don’t have to do that anymore, Scar. You’re not my slave. I should never have…”
I suppose I knew that, at least on a theoretical level. I knew he no longer wanted me to be his slave, didn’t I? But I also had no idea how else to act. It was the only thing I knew how to do when he walked in the room.
I nodded, though, in truth, I hoped it would be a long time before he left me alone again so I wouldn’t have to figure it out anytime soon. Maybe by then, this would seem normal.
“I brought back breakfast,” he said, though I could already see the paper bag he’d left on the table and smell something that must have bacon and eggs thrown into the mix. “Are you hungry?”
I was, at least I had been before he’d returned to our room. But with him here now, still touching my face, it was no longer food I wanted. I wanted to feel his hands move lower, to caress my neck, cup my breasts…
“Scar?” he queried, though I could tell by the heated look in his eyes his thoughts had run in a similar direction.
“It’s not food I want. I want you, M…” I caught myself at the last moment, but not quickly enough.
His eyes closed and he exhaled heavily as if he were trying to blow away his frustration, or agitation, or whatever it was he felt. It was still just as impossible to read his expression.
All at once, his hands reached for the towel where it was secured between my breasts and his lips came down on mine, hard. Three days of sitting next to him in the car. Three days of remembering the feel of his hands on my body, and finally I felt him.
His hands made a grand sweep down my body, but on his way back up, he slowed, squeezing my backside and pressing me hard against him as he backed me up against the wall. I could feel the massive size of his erection through his pants against my bare abdomen, and it made my thighs squeeze in response to the rush of arousal that shot through me.
Keeping as close to him as I could, I reached between us for the hem of his shirt and yanked it upward. He didn’t stop me; he pulled away just long enough for me to get his shirt off, but then he was back. See—progress. I didn’t even ask his permission.
His lips covered mine, but only briefly this time. Then he was kissing lower, along my jaw and down my neck.