Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
He tosses his dress shirt to the marble floor and I make a little noise.
“You shouldn’t throw your clothes aside. They’re expensive.”
“Mmm,” he hums, turning to me with hunger in his dark eyes. He looks like he wants to devour me alive. My face heats up, the steam curling off the water making my skin flushed and warm.
He tugs the robe down my arms and lets it pool at my feet. He fingers the lace of my bralette like he wants to rip it off.
“Don’t,” I warn. “I like this bralette.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“You already owe me leggings,” I scold, and choke on my words when he strips off his undershirt, presenting me with a mouthwatering display of sleek, tan muscles. His skin is a few shades lighter than mine, an olive brown that speaks to his Mediterranean heritage. I tighten my hands to fists before I run my hands all over him. “Never mind,” I say. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“No?” He angles his body, posing a little. Teasing me.
“No.” I drag my eyes away from him. “You’ve already helped a ton. You don’t need to buy me anything.”
“What if I want to buy you things?”
My reflection in the steamed up mirror has a furrowed brow. That does not compute. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I like buying pretty things.” He turns me back to him. I’m face to face with the groove between his smooth pecs. My thoughts stutter into nothing.
He thumbs along the lines of my breasts, fingering the lace.
“I like to own them.”
He strips me of my last item of clothing, and I let him, holding my arms up obediently.
He bends over me, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear. “I would spend tens of thousands to dress you, just so I could rip those threads from your body.” Those whispered words race across my skin, lighting me up from the inside out. My legs are about to give out when his arms close around me. He positions me in front of him, facing the mirror. I let him move me around like I’m a doll, leaning back into his hard body as he lets his hands roam over me. He’s still in his slacks, but the expensive fabric does nothing to hide the steel rod of his cock pressing into my bare backside.
Royal’s breath warms my neck as he smooths his hands over my hips and soft belly. He cups my breasts and strokes the sensitive sides of my breasts with his thumbs. My curves fill his big palms, a generous handful spilling out of his hold.
He kisses up my neck while I stare at our reflection.
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs.
“I’m curvy,” I say.
“You’re beautiful.” His hand comes to my throat, wrapping around it and turning my head for his kiss. “Open for me, Leah.”
And I do. I’ll let him do anything he wants to me. If we only have one night together, I’m going to soak up everything I can.
It’ll be over all too soon.
Leah
I awaken in darkness, blinking in the blissful warmth. There’s a long, hard body pressed up against me. Royal. I’m in his bed. Across the dark room, beyond the window panes, snow falls silently.
Last night, Royal gave me a bath. At my request, he kept my hair dry, but personally washed me, running a washcloth over all my curves. I may have had another mini orgasm or two, just from his thorough washing of my princess parts.
He scooped me from the tub, drying me off with the same thoroughness and intensity he does everything—from fixing espresso machines to giving me orgasms. Then he took me to bed and made it clear how beautiful he thinks I am.
Now I’m in his bed, still drowsy. I twitch in preparation to inch away, and Royal’s arm tightens.
“Leah,” he murmurs against the back of my neck.
“I wasn’t trying to wake you,” I whisper. “I should go.” A one-night stand only lasts one night. I have no cause to feel disappointed.
“It's snowing. You sleep now.” His voice is muffled by my hair.
“What time is it?”
With a soft snarl, he moves, craning around to check the clock. “Six in the morning. February fourteenth.”
No wonder I woke up. This is prime baking time.
I push against Royal’s hard arm, but it doesn’t budge. “I need to get to work.”
“The shop is still closed,” he says, sounding fully awake now. “Not only because of snow. Your boss is also going to wait until the shop has undergone repairs.”
“You talked to him?” After the final round of sexy times, I passed out. Probably only a handful of hours ago.
“My men did.”
“He’s all right? And Cedella?”
“Both doing fine. We can call them whenever you like.”
I lick my lips. Sooner or later, I’m going to need to return home. But maybe I can keep the fantasy a little while longer.