Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I leaned forward to feel his cheek with my lips, murmuring against his skin. “Do you want my mouth on your dick? Or my cock pressing inside your tight ass? Tell me what you want, Rowe.”
The strangled hitch of his breath almost made a laugh bubble up in my chest. He was so fucking sweet. My words had been a test, a small push to get his gut reaction. But his reaction hadn’t been in his guts as much as in his pants. His cock tented the front of his jeans enough to draw my attention. I reached down to rub him through the fabric. “You like that, hmm? Like hearing me talk dirty? Like knowing what I want to do to you?”
He leaned forward and hid his face in my neck. “You’re going to kill me. I’m going to come in my pants and humiliate myself before I even get to see you naked,” he groaned.
I laughed into his hair, landing kisses in his soft curls and enjoying every second of teasing and touching him. This was a thousand times better than I’d ever anticipated.
“Come to my bedroom?” I whispered against his ear. “I’ll take off my clothes before debauching you, I promise.”
He arched against my hand and let out a whine. “Just… tell me it won’t just be one time, okay? Because the second I see you naked, I’m going to come, I just know it, and the only thing that will help me overcome the horror is knowing I get another chance to try again.”
I moved us forward to the edge of the sofa before hefting him up and walking toward the bedroom with him attached to my front. His erection pressed against my stomach, eliciting a breathy, sensual gasp from him with every movement.
He was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“Oh, there’ll be more than one chance,” I rumbled in his ear. “I damn well guarantee it. We have the whole night, and I’m thinking… one chance for every lie you’ve told.”
“There were kind of a lot of lies,” he reminded me doubtfully, wrapping his arms more tightly around my neck.
I bit down gently on his earlobe, and he shuddered in my arms. “Exactly.”
NINE
ROWE
How was real life more unbelievable than any lie I’d dreamed up as Sterling Chase?
I’d confessed who I was to Bash, put all my cards on the table. This should have been the sad end of the movie—the scene where he kicked me out of his suite, leaving me to wander the streets alone in a bleak montage while Adele’s “Someone Like You” played in the background.
Instead, he was carrying me to his bed like the hero in a rom-com—or a fairy-tale prince—growling erotic promises in my ear that made my dick leak as it pressed against the front of my jeans.
One of us had clearly gotten our lines wrong, but I wasn’t going to question it. In fact, I wished this was a movie so I could rewatch it all later when my mind inevitably tricked me into believing it had never happened in the first place.
No, really, Rowe… you did once go to New York City and have wild, passionate sex with a rich beefcake. Here’s the video to prove it.
Was it possible to wear out digital video from rewatching it too often?
“You look like you’re scheming,” Bash said, clearly holding back a laugh as he placed me on the bed. His heated gaze roamed my body, stealing all logical thought from my brain. “There’s no need. I’m a sure thing, I promise.”
I kicked off my shoes while his hands returned to finish unbuttoning my shirt. I shoved them away and tackled the buttons faster than he ever could. “You do you. Me do me.”
He laughed, deep and easy, and it lit up his face—as if he needed to become more attractive. “You going to watch me, caveman?”
I scrambled up onto my knees and faced him, pulling my shirt off as if I was a brave Lothario who’d done this many, many times. “Yes. Me watch. Me like.”
Bash’s eyes roamed over my naked skin, and somehow, impossibly, something about my pale, scrawny chest made his eyes go dark with need. “Me like more.”
My nipples tightened, and air became harder to drag into my lungs.
“Bash,” I said almost under my breath. “Take off your clothes. Please?”
My whispered plea flipped a switch in him, but instead of hurrying, he began to move in a kind of sultry slow motion, removing his clothes one stitch at a time with a liquid rhythm that made me salivate.
“Wha… what’re you doing?” I breathed.
“You wanted me to remove my clothes, correct? I’m removing them. Thoroughly.”
Bash’s fake-innocent act was like a stroke to my already hard dick. I let out a noise of need and idly wondered how long a man could go without blinking before it became a risk to his eyesight. Because I needed my eyesight very, very badly, if only for this one night.