Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
But there could never be anyone else.
“I suppose they just walk into a bar and hook up with a stranger. But that would be a bad idea for me. Because we’re on this mission. So bringing in a random person might jeopardize the mission…and upset the team dynamics.”
His voice roughens. “It would fucking destroy at least half this team.”
My chest swells up with hope, until every breath is tight and painful. “So maybe—if I wanted to use sex to feel good—we could keep it within the team? Because I already know that you make me feel so good.”
“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “We can do that.”
My eyes close with sheer relief. “Can we go back upstairs, then?”
“We can do that, too.”
But when I slide off my stool, he doesn’t move—except to snag his steely arm around my waist and pull me close against his side. Then closer, until I’m straddling his heavy thigh. I finally have the courage to look at him, but he’s not looking back. Instead his eyes are closed and his jaw is clenched, his head slightly bowed. If he were any other man, I’d think that he was praying.
I bite my lip. “Stone?”
“I’m here.” His broad chest rises and falls on a deep breath, his arm tightening around my waist. “But I need a second to recover from what you just did to me.”
A laugh shakes through me. “You’re such a lightweight.”
“And you’ve got one hell of a punch, Maxine.” But he grins, reaching for my drink. “Maybe we’ll have a sip of this now. To the team.”
“To the team.” I pluck out the garnish stick and its skewered maraschino, then take a sip. “And I’ll be giving my husband a cherry on our wedding night, after all.”
Stone chokes on a laugh while he drinks to the team, but his eyes burn into mine when he eats the cherry off the stick I’m holding out for him—then he downs the rest of the glass, gaze locked on my mouth. As if he’s so hungry. So thirsty. My heart trips over itself, my breath trembling, my inner muscles tightening.
Setting the glass down, he tips his head closer, his firm lips only a breath away from the softness of mine. “Let’s go make you feel real good, angel.”
In so many ways…I already do.
34
Stone
If Maxine ever gets to a fourth drink and goes all philosophical again, I’ll have an entire slew of different answers for her.
Do I believe in God? Fuck yes, I do.
Do I believe in miracles? Fuck yes, I do.
Do I believe in angels? Fuck yes, I do.
But I can’t believe my angel is letting me touch her again. That she needs me to touch her.
Knowing that ain’t all sweet, though. Because she’s hurting so bad. I’ll give Maxine anything she needs. If the price of taking her pain away came at the cost of never touching her again, I’d pay it. Instead she just wants me to make her feel good. So I can’t fuck this up, can’t do anything that might hurt her more.
I’ve hurt her too much already. So much I don’t deserve to touch her again. What I deserve is to watch her walk away with another man. Someone who’d treat her the way she ought to be treated from the start. Even though it’d kill me.
But that’s not what she wanted. She wanted me.
I can barely fucking believe it. In the elevator, about every emotion a man can feel is twisting around in my chest, dominated by hope and need, all torqued hard and tight with the love I have for this woman.
All the want I feel for her is settling lower. My cock’s a rigid ache when she leads me down the hallway to our suite, her fingers tangled with mine. She hasn’t met my eyes much, but her nipples are stiff little candies beneath her pink tee, her breaths coming quick and shallow between her soft lips.
Chasing after her out of the shower earlier, I didn’t grab a keycard. But she’s ahead of me there, tugging one from her back pocket and glancing over her shoulder when the door unlocks.
Not looking so hurt and lost now. Just hot and eager.
She heads in, all sweet ass and swinging hips. And fuck me, I want to grab on. To lift her up against the door and take what I need, hard and rough and deep.
But this isn’t about what I need. It’s about what Maxine does. So I’ll let her take the lead.
She’s no longer holding my hand, but I follow close when she crosses to the bedroom, pulling off her baseball cap as she goes. Hair tumbling around her shoulders, she grips the hem of her shirt. My next few steps are awkward hops as I reach down for my boots and yank them off one at a time. The second boot hits the carpeted floor just as she stops beside the bed.