Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
They were the same words I’d said to her back in Georgia, but fuck me if they didn’t sound a million times sexier coming out of her mouth.
I kissed her first and groaned when she opened for me. She was so damned sweet, her tongue rubbing against mine as I relearned every line of her mouth. Kissing her was just as explosive as I remembered, and a thousand times more addictive.
My fingers speared through her hair as I tilted our heads for the perfect angle, the kiss spinning out of control. Her breasts pressed against my chest. Her hips rocked over mine. Her breath became my own. This was exactly where I belonged, wherever she was.
The connection between us was as undefinable as it was undeniable.
“I’d almost forgotten how good at this we are,” she said between kisses.
“I thought about it every single day.” I angled her hips and rolled mine so she could feel exactly what I was thinking right now.
“I missed you.” She kissed my jaw, my neck, as her hands swept down my arms, then my torso. “And I know I shouldn’t have. That it’s completely illogical—”
I fisted my hand in her hair and brought her mouth back to mine, using my lips and tongue to tell her that I felt the exact same way. My fingers drifted from her hip to the small of her back, slipping under her shirt to stroke the hollow of her spine.
She gasped at the light touch, and I swallowed the sound.
“I bet you’re sensitive like this everywhere, aren’t you?” I asked, trailing my fingers up and down the smooth skin of her back.
“Why don’t you find out?” Her hands worked at her waist and her blouse fell open to the sides, revealing a pale-blue lace bra that cupped her breasts with an expertise that made my mouth water.
“Fuck.” The word escaped as a guttural groan. “You are so goddamn perfect, Isabeau.”
“Touch me.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. My hands stroked up her sides, caressing the dip of her waist, and then up and over her ribs before cupping her breasts over the lace. She was more than enough to fill my hands. “See? Perfect.”
She laughed, then kissed me, and I lost myself—and every good intention I’d had—in the taste of her mouth, the sound of her little moans, the feel of her nipples hardening beneath the fabric under the stroke of my thumbs.
I licked and sucked a path down her throat and across her collarbone, then grasped her ass with one hand and lifted her slightly so my teeth could test the buds of her nipples. The lace was too thick for what I needed, what I craved. I tugged one cup down and savored the sound of her soft cry as I sucked the peak into my mouth.
“Nate!” Her fingernails bit into my shoulders.
My dick strained at my zipper, but I was thankful for the barrier. It kept me in check as I moved to the other breast, exposing it so I could give it the same treatment. “So sensitive,” I said against her skin as she shuddered.
“Or maybe I only respond like this for you,” she replied, her voice all breathy and sexy as hell.
I didn’t want anyone else touching her like this.
Mine. Fate, God, whatever energy ruled the universe had brought her to me. And she. Was. Mine.
Except she wasn’t. There was a reason we shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t remember what it was.
I shoved that thought aside, kissing her deep, then banding my arm around her back and flipping us so she was underneath me. Bad idea. My hips settled into the cradle of hers like they’d been created to fit mine.
Her hands stroked down my back, then tugged up my shirt and took the same path along my bare skin. My common sense fled as I rocked against her, eliciting the sweetest moan I’d ever heard.
“Again,” she demanded, sliding her hands to my ass.
I pressed a hot kiss to her throat and gave her what we both wanted. White-hot need raced down my spine. Kissing her felt like I was sixteen again, with no control, no experience, just blind, primal want.
“Tell me what you need,” I said between kisses as I moved down her neck to her breasts, flicking my tongue over the peaks one at a time.
“I want you to touch me,” she said, arching up for my mouth as I rolled my hips against hers again. There was too much space between us. Too many clothes. Which was a good thing . . . if I could just remember why.
“Tell me how.” I wanted the words as I pressed my mouth to the sensitive skin beneath her breasts and then the hollow just under her ribs, where her stomach planed, kissing every line of the scars from the plane crash.