Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, Zach, I’m totally monopolizing the conversation.” I grabbed a spatula from a drawer and flipped the chicken breast over in the pan. “How are you? How was your day?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing new or exciting here. And I like hearing you talk about your shop. I wish I could see it.”
“Me too.”
“I wish I could see you. Have you given any more thought to meeting me in Las Vegas next weekend?”
“Of course I have. I think about it all the time.” I glanced at my cats, as if they might hear and judge me. “I’m just nervous. Where will I say I’m going and why?”
“Las Vegas is the wedding capital of the world, isn’t it? Say you’re going for research.”
I laughed. “There is a veil wholesaler out there. I guess I could say I’m going out there to look at stock.”
“Perfect. I’m booking your ticket. I’ll be there Thursday to Monday. What days work for you?”
“I can get away for a weekend. Friday to Sunday. And I’ll see if I can visit that wholesaler on Saturday.”
“I’ll make sure you have a car too. And a driver if you want one.”
I smiled as my stomach fluttered with excitement. “Then I guess I’ll see you next Friday.”
The ticket Zach purchased for me was first class. The hotel was five star. The bed was king-sized and made up with 600 thread count sheets that felt like satin against my skin.
We spent a lot of time in them.
The hotel room door had barely closed behind me and Zach was striding toward me, his eyes dark and hungry. I tried to say hello and his lips consumed mine with a kiss. I tried to pull back and look at him—my eyes were desperate to get their fill after two weeks apart—but his arms were locked tight around me. I tried to unbutton his shirt, eager to feel his bare chest under my palms, but he wouldn’t let me get him naked until he’d pulled every stitch of clothing off me and gotten his hands and lips and tongue on every inch of my skin.
He was still fully clothed, his face buried between my thighs, my fingers fisted in his hair, when I had my first orgasm, leaning back against a mountain of pillows like a queen.
Only then would he allow me to undress him, and I took my time—savoring every new part of his body revealed to me as I peeled off his clothes piece by piece. I removed his shirt and brushed my lips against the hair on his chest. Ran my tongue along the lines of ink on his biceps and ribs. Caressed the ridges of his abs with my nose, breathing in his scent. I pulled off his jeans and boxer briefs and pushed him onto the bed, kneeling between his legs. I ran my hands up his legs, appreciating the firm muscles of his calves, his thick, powerful thighs, the V lines bracketing his erection, which rested on his abdomen, massive and heavy and hard.
I traced those V lines with my tongue. I watched his stomach muscles flex and his cock twitch with anticipation. I rubbed my lips against his crown and swept them down the thick, veined shaft, relishing in every texture of his skin.
He lay back against the pillows like I had, watching me, his jaw slightly open, breaths coming fast, chest rising and falling. He groaned when I finally took him into my mouth, his fingers threading into my hair. “God, I’ve thought about this,” he rasped as I took him to the back of my throat. “Every fucking night. My good girl.” His hips were already lifting off the bed, and I could taste him on my tongue—salty and masculine. I would have finished him off that way, but he lifted my head and turned me beneath him.
“I have to get inside you,” he growled. “I can’t wait a second longer.”
I didn’t argue, just as anxious as he was for the heat and friction and the feel of his body deep inside me. I clung to him fiercely, wanting to be closer even when it was impossible, surrendering to the longing for him that never seemed to abate, crying out as he drove us both off the edge, falling to pieces beneath him.
You can’t keep doing this, said a voice in my head. You’re out of control.
I ignored it, let it be swallowed up by the sensation of his weight above me. His rapid-fire breathing. His warm, damp skin against mine. The final shudder and pulse of his body.
As my heartbeat slowed, my eyes filled with tears. Embarrassed and confused, I pretended I had to use the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered, my throat thick with emotion.
He rolled off me, and I quickly slipped from the bed and hurried into the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face and took several deep breaths. When I had control of myself, I stared at my reflection and issued that girl a warning.