Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
There will be more Rachels. There will be a dozen, two dozen, a thousand dead innocents because Simon doesn’t know anything but violence.
And I’m just some girl. I couldn’t help him, even if I tried.
“I’m going to kill because that’s how I’ll keep everyone else safe,” he whispers, and damn if I almost believe him. “You don’t have to approve of what I’m going to do. I know you never will. But I’m doing what’s best for my family.”
“I’m your family,” I say, my lips parting. “I’m your wife. What if I begged you to let it go? What if I asked you not to fight?”
His expression twists and he shakes his head. “Sorry, baby. That’s one thing I can’t ever give you.” He leans forward and his lips brush my chin. I shiver, and a spark of a new emotion kindles. The feeling of his mouth on my skin is divine, and so what if I’m a mess right now? So what if my friend is dead and Simon thinks he’s to blame? I want to forget. I want to feel something more than this steady, thumping emptiness in my chest.
I get up on my toes and kiss him. Softly, on the corner of his mouth. He seems surprised and goes very still.
“I’m your wife,” I say again, and this time it means something very different. It’s a promise and an invitation to make a huge mistake with me.
“You’re my wife,” he says. I kiss his lips and stare at him. We’re inches apart and his eyes look so damn hungry. “You should hate me.”
He’s probably right. I should hate him for what happened.
“I don’t.” I kiss him a third time. I don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t work, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s about to reject me. “You’re my husband.”
“I’m your husband,” he agrees and there’s a low, almost pained groan in his throat as he pulls me against him, one hand on my lower back, the other in my hair. “Tell me you want this.”
“I’ve wanted you since the day you found me under that desk.” I’ve also been afraid of him, and I’ve hated him, and I’ve wanted to get close to him a thousand times over. “Don’t overthink this.”
His lips part. “We shouldn’t.”
“I want to.”
“Yeah, baby,” he says with a strangled sigh. “I do too.”
Then he kisses me, and his time his mouth opens and mine opens too, and his tongue brushes past my teeth, and I’m completely lost to him.
Chapter 26
Emily
We stumble upstairs together. I’m kissing him, mindless, needy, stripping off his jacket and throwing it aside, stripping off his shirt and tossing it on the floor. We reach his room—our room—and my black dress comes off. It puddles around my ankles as I step backwards out of it. I’m in black panties, a black bra, and my lips are kiss-bitten, my pulse juddering like crazy as he looks at me like he’s barely keeping himself from devouring me whole.
“Tell me you want this,” he says, grabbing me roughly and pulling me against him. His skin is so warm against mine and I’m reminded that I’m alive, so fucking alive.
“I want this,” I whisper.
He kisses my neck and I whimper as his hand palms my breast over my bra. My nipples peak, stiff as hell and aching for him to tease them. “I don’t want you to do this just because you’re emotional. You lost someone important.”
“I’m doing this because I want you to fuck me.” My cheeks turn pink and I’m surprised I had the courage to say that out loud, but it’s true. “I’ve wanted it for weeks.”
It’s his turn to groan. I trace the divots between his incredible muscles then dig my fingers into his massive arms. I’m trembling, and I feel so small in his arms, and I want him to shut up and keep going.
His mouth peppers kisses along my throat as he unhooks my bra. I feel like I’m being unwrapped. His palms squeeze my breasts, kneading them as he buries his mouth on mine, tongue flipping against my tongue, his taste flooding me. Then he’s kissing my throat, my neck. His hand pulls my hair as he reaches down to latch his mouth onto one stiff nipple. He bites and sucks hard, and I moan as I curl into him, wanting more.
His other hand reaches between my legs and strokes over my panties. “I can feel you’re already soaked, baby,” he whispers. “And your nipples are so fucking hard right now.”
“I already told you what I want,” I groan, tilting my head back. I think I’ve lost my mind in my grief, or maybe I’m just beyond giving a shit, but I’m saying what I want now. I’m not holding it back and I’m not worrying about repercussions. I’m here, in this moment, with my husband.