Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Yes and yes.”
“Excellent. Well, I’d be delighted to say all sorts of sweet and smutty things to you later. But right now I have things to do. Like you,” he specifies. “You’re the thing I have to do.”
“Got it.”
And he draws back before pushing back into me good and hard. I’m wet and wanting. I can take it. But it steals the breath from me just the same. There’s definitely no more time for talking. Fucking is the priority. Because there’s no way this is making love. This is hot and sweaty and fast and hard. His muscles flex and his face sharpens and all I can do is hang on for the ride. And the ride is spectacular. He is magic. He sets a determined pace, undoing me piece by piece until I’m one big ball of need. Nothing beyond this bed exists.
The focus on his face and set of his jawline is mesmerizing. He strokes me deep inside, lighting me up, building that high all over again. A normally impossible feat for me, but nothing is impossible when it comes to Leif. His hips grind against me, driving me into a frenzy. The base of his cock rubbing against my clit in a way that is honestly stellar. And when he finds a particularly thrilling spot and works it over and over again, raw electricity streaks up and down my spine. It’s like he knows my body better than I do and isn’t the least bit hesitant to show me.
His hand closes over my throat just firmly enough to make its presence known and his voice is guttural as he says, “Look at me.”
I can do nothing else as the whole world bleeds to gray and my body seizes. Waves of pleasure swamp me. There’s just him. Just him and me. And he’s all I’ve got to hold onto.
Leif curses and comes, slamming his hips against me.
We’re a hot wet mess on the mattress. His face in my neck, his back heaving as he sucks in air. I well know the feeling. Mostly, I’m limp. Floppy. Spent. Words like that. If we never moved again it would be fine with me. But oh so carefully, he disentangles himself and collapses beside me on the mattress. Probably for the best. As much as I like the feel of his weight pressing me down, the man is heavy. I smell like him. Hell, I’m covered in him and it’s wonderful. The man shook me up good and proper, then delivered on heaven. Easily the best sex I’ve ever had. How about that?
The quiet unnerves me. Or maybe it’s the sense of peace and contentment. I don’t trust it. “Are you okay?”
“Shh,” he says, eyelids sealed shut. “Post-come float.”
Huh.
For a long time, nothing is said. Then finally he comes out with, “Not bad for a first effort.”
I just look at him and blink. “Not bad?”
He frowns. “What? You didn’t like it?”
That’s when I hide my head under a pillow. This man’s going to be the death of me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Stop it.”
“Hmm?” I look up from my bowl of chocolate cake and ice cream. Sex and baking is apparently now our life. Good times.
“You’re thinking a lot and not saying anything,” he says, pointing his spoon at me in an accusatory fashion. He’s sitting cross-legged opposite me on the bed. The only thing he’s wearing is a fetching navy-and-white-striped apron. I at least put on a tee and panties. Talk about decorum. His hair is tied back and his expression is so open and honest. “Also, you’re licking the spoon in a gratuitous manner.”
“Am not. You just have a dirty mind.”
“Anna, tell me what you’re thinking.”
“It’s nothing really.”
“C’mon, humor me,” he says. Then pauses. “Wait. Let me guess. You’re thinking about the ex, right?”
I shrug.
“I knew it. Do you feel guilty?”
“No. A little strange maybe, but not guilty.”
“Strange in what way?” he asks, cocking his head.
“I don’t mean to compare, but I can’t help comparing sometimes,” I admit.
“Go on.”
I wince. “Lief . . .”
“C’mon. It’s okay. Whatever you have to say, I can handle it.” His smile is gentle, cautious. “But I don’t want you bottling shit up and stressing over things. I know you’re an overthinker, but we need to set limits for everyone’s sake. Get it off your chest, Anna. I am your therapist. With sexual benefits.”
“Is that what we are now?” I ask, beyond curious. “Roommates with benefits?”
“You need a label?”
“Yeah. I think I do.”
“Okay.” He sighs. “Truth is, I don’t know. I like you and I assume you like me.”
“You’re not so bad.”
“Thanks,” he says. “I especially like you naked in bed and am more than happy to return the favor for you if you’re in agreement.”
“The fact that we’re sitting scantily clad on my bed would suggest I’m good with that.”