Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Oh, fuck,” I groan as he pumps them in and out of me, working me up into a frenzy. All too soon, his thumb flicks my clit, and I’m spiraling over the edge.
As I come down from my orgasm, I hear his belt jingle and his fly lower. His shirt lands on the ground next to our feet, and a second later, he’s entering me from behind. My body thrusts forward, my tits hanging over the railing. One of Braxton’s hands digs into the curve of my hip and the other wraps around my front, pinching my nipple as he drives in and out of me. His mouth latches onto my neck, and I moan in pleasure, loving the way he knows exactly how to turn me on and get me off.
As our bodies connect in the most intimate way, our flesh hot, our skin dotted with sweat, the fireworks continue to light up the sky—gold and silver flecks raining down and disappearing into the black ocean.
“It’s never been like this,” Braxton murmurs into my ear huskily. “Never felt like this... Fuck,” he growls as his thrusts turn savage, hitting me deliciously deep.
I should probably be upset or jealous that he’s comparing me to the other women he’s been with, but I don’t have it in me to be. Because right here, right now, he’s with me. He wants me. And regardless of all the other women he’s been with, I’m the one who does this to him.
“Only... Fucking... You,” he growls as he lets go, his warm seed shooting inside me and coating my walls, sending me into another climax that’s so strong, my knees damn near buckle.
He stills, his body still connected to mine, and drops a soft kiss to the top of my shoulder that somehow feels more intimate than the sex we just had. “Only you, Crazy,” he whispers, pulling out as the fireworks finale lights up the sky. “Only fucking you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
BRAXTON
The muted sunlight slips in through the blinds, making Kaylee burrow her face into my neck, her pillow-soft breasts pressing against my side. I don’t move, not wanting to wake her up, just simply enjoying the quiet moment. In a rock star’s world, quiet isn’t something we get a lot of, especially not on the road, so when we do get it, we tend to soak it up and revel in it as long as we can.
When her stomach rumbles, her eyes pop open, and she giggles. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Hungry?”
“How’d you guess?” She sighs. “I can’t believe this is our last day on vacation. I say you quit your job, and we buy this house and never leave.” She cuddles into my side, and I wrap my arm around her tighter. I know she’s only joking, but the idea sounds damn good.
“Can’t leave the guys hanging,” I say, pinching her chin and raising her face to look at me. “But we can definitely come back soon.” And if she wants me to buy a fucking beach house, I’m not opposed to doing so. The thought has me taking a deep breath because it’s the first time since we’ve been doing what we’ve been doing that I’ve thought about us as more than just right now and at the moment.
I know I love the woman, always have, but I meant what I said at the time, that we needed to take shit slow. I didn’t think having sex would affect us, but I should’ve known that sex with Kaylee isn’t like sex with those groupies. Every time I fuck her, my heart is part of it. I can’t simply think with my dick where she’s concerned, and that’s scary as fuck because even though I love her, she still hurt me—hence, the thorn-covered roses inked into my side.
Kaylee lied, pretending she cheated on me to push me away. She let me believe for six goddamn years that she fucked another guy. She knew it broke me, but she never tried to put me back together. I want to forgive her, want to move forward, but it’s hard as hell to do that when her putting me first meant putting my feelings last.
“Hey, you okay?” Kaylee asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I sit up, gently moving her off me. “Wanna go get breakfast? Then we can figure out what we want to do today.”
“Sure.” She nods, her smile forced because she can sense my tension. She knows me as well as I know myself. It doesn’t matter how much time we’ve spent apart. “We have to be ready to go to the airport tomorrow at five o’clock.”
Since we’re in Miami for the week, the buses drove to Tennessee, where we’ll be performing next, and we’re taking a flight there instead of having to endure the fourteen-hour drive.