Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
She scoffed. “Gross.”
“True,” I corrected her.
The rest of the night went exactly like the first thirty minutes—or less if I were being completely honest—went. There was a lot of sex. A short recovery. Then we did it all over again.
To be one-hundred-percent truthful, there was a whole lot of DNA left in that hotel room by the time we were through.
I just hoped that they cleaned as well as they said they did. Otherwise, that’d be gross for the person after us.
I should probably care.
But I didn’t.
By the time we were through, there wasn’t a lot that I cared about, I was so relaxed.
“Come on,” I urged, pulling her from the bed. “Checkout is ten minutes away, and I want to get you in my own bed.”
And I did.
The idea of her in my sheets? The idea of fucking her against my kitchen cabinets? The idea of her waking up from a nap on my couch? All of those things appealed to me in such a weird way that I was practically salivating for them.
I wanted her in my house. In my space.
I wanted her scent on my sheets. I wanted her clothes all over my floor. I wanted her hair shit in my bathroom.
I wanted her where she was supposed to be. Where I could always find her if I needed her.
She moved with the utmost reluctance.
By the time she was pointing out the keys and grabbing her bag, I already had the door open, waiting for her.
We walked down to the lobby using the stairs.
When we arrived, I handed over the two keys—who the fuck used old-fashioned keys anymore?—and asked the clerk if there was anything else I needed to do while Sabrina stood comfortably at my side, allowing me to do all the talking.
I had a feeling that would be a normal thing for us. Her sitting back and allowing me to do all the talking.
And I quite liked it.
Something caveman inside of me liked that she was allowing me to make all decisions.
Even the little ones, like choosing which door she walked out of. Or how she got home—which FYI was going to be on the back of my bike.
While I was waiting for the clerk to make sure everything was good, I received a text message.
My phone had to be almost dead by now.
I hadn’t charged it at all yesterday or today.
My lips curved up into a smile when I read the screen.
Hunt: Congratulations. You’re a married man. Also, might want to keep a close eye on her from now on. I might or might not have pissed them off.
My lips quirked.
“All right, sir. Ms. Proctor. You’re all square here,” the receptionist said as she handed over a piece of paper.
The receipt.
“Actually, her name is Mrs. Crow.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
“Oh, it says here she checked in under Ms. Proctor.” She blinked in confusion.
I grinned. “It’s new. She doesn’t always remember.” When I looked down at Sabrina, I said, “Does she?”
Sabrina flushed a bright red as all attention was brought to her. “Um, no. Husband.”
She nearly choked on the words, but that one word was enough to make us officially married in the eyes of Texas.
Though, according to them, we’d been married a lot longer than that.
As we walked out into the midmorning sun, a sun that looked like it was about to disappear any second if the ominous clouds to the south were any indication, I pulled her into my arms and said, “You’re riding with me.”
“But my car…” She hesitated, pointing at it in the lot.
I looked at her car.
“I’ll have it towed to the garage.” I paused. “Because you now own Cole’s truck. Outright.”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
“As a forest fire,” I confirmed. “Now, let’s get you back to my place. I want to do a few more bad things to you before you have to go back to work tomorrow.”
Thank God it was the weekend.
CHAPTER 18
I can’t wait until I’m grown is the dumbest shit I’ve ever said.
-Sabrina to her dad
SABRINA
I was in high heaven.
There wasn’t a single thing that could bring me down.
I moaned as I hiked my legs up higher onto Price’s back, gasping at the new angle it put him at as he slowly but solidly fucked me like it was his life’s mission.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, unable to help myself.
I didn’t usually curse, but I found myself doing that a lot lately when it came to this man and how he made me feel.
He chuckled darkly, his hand going to my ass, which he lifted, to access that angle even easier.
“God, you feel so good,” he growled, pumping his hips.
The new and improved angle made tiny little stars start to dance in my vision as I flirted with the edge of yet another orgasm.