Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
The only thing that exists is this.
Me.
Her.
The way her lips smile against my own when I inch back to reposition.
The way she tilts her chin, inching closer when she thinks I’m going to end it.
My brain doesn’t come back online until her fingers reach under my shirt and trail down my sides.
And then it’s like the first bullet of a firefight. It snaps me back into focus. Her hands are on my skin. Her lips are pressed against mine. Every inch I can manage to line up is pressed against her. My cock throbs to be released.
It feels fucking perfect, but we both know just how wrong it is. This can’t happen. If she were literally any other woman on this Earth, I’d have her naked with her thighs clamped around my head. I’d bury my cock so fucking deep in her—
“Stop,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers. “We can’t.”
She takes a long shuddering breath. “I know.”
Her hands fall away, and somehow, I manage not to lift them back to my sides. With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I untangle my fingers from her silky hair and take a step back.
Her chest is heaving just as hard as my own, and somehow, it’s a mild comfort to know that she may possibly be as affected by the kiss as I was.
“Dani wasn’t in West Africa. I need you to stay here where it’s safe.” She nods but refuses to look me in the eyes. “I’m spread too thin. I don’t want to have to worry about you, too.”
She nods, a mere two quick dips of her head, and I walk away, closing the bedroom door behind me.
Chapter 20
Anna
My eyes blink over and over as if I’ve just been woken up from a dream. My fingers press to my swollen lips as if I need to touch them for proof that the kiss really happened.
Even with his manly scent still in my nose, infiltrating my brain all the while telling me to chase after him, I can’t believe it’s real.
He went from get fucked to let’s fuck like a lightning flash, and he ended it just as quickly.
I lick at my lips, missing the scratch of his overgrown stubble. I don’t think he’s shaved in the week he’s been gone. It’s been forever since I’ve kissed a man with facial hair, and it wasn’t until the rough texture touched my face that I realized how much I actually missed it. God how I’ve missed it.
I didn’t realize how much I missed him, rather than just having someone around. I’ve ached for his eyes on me. Hell, I would’ve relinquished my trust fund just to listen to him telling me I’m a spoiled brat.
And now things are ruined.
We can’t.
I knew that before he leaned in. I knew it with the very first strike of his tongue against mine. I knew it before my fingers found the heat of his skin. We both did.
Kissing him was wrong. Wanting to keep doing it is a betrayal I’ll have to learn to live with. Deacon is a lot of things, but a man who goes back on his word isn’t one of them.
It was a onetime thing. It’ll never happen again.
I shove the pile of stuff on the bed to the side, moving it only enough for me to crawl under the covers and bury my face. He’s not even in the room, and I’m utterly embarrassed, but the increasing heat of my skin still isn’t enough for me to shove the blankets back enough so I can breathe comfortably.
This is my own personal hell. I agreed to be here. Truthfully, I want to be here, so long as he’s around, but that’s a double-edged sword after what just happened.
It was just a stupid kiss, my subconscious reminds me.
But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t stupid
And it surely wasn’t just a kiss.
That kiss was everything. It was the best. It rules supreme over every other kiss I’ve ever had from Josh in sixth grade straight through to the last guy I dated whose name completely escapes me right now.
Epic.
Fiery.
Passionate.
Too short.
All of it. I groan, grumble about my own stupidity as I bury my face deeper in the pillow. I’m going to have to face that man. I’m going to have to eventually walk out of this room and see him again. Just the thought makes my skin flame even more, both with shame and a level of lust I know I’ll never feel again.
It doesn’t matter that he kissed me first. I kissed him back. I want to keep kissing him. Forever seems like it wouldn’t be long enough.
I punch the pillow hard enough that something rolls off the bed and smacks the floor. Whatever it was sounds broken now, and I just don’t have the energy to care.