Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
When I roll my eyes, he gently touches my face and makes me look at him.
“Don’t laugh it away or pretend it’s not true. It’s a fact, angel. You look perfect. Curves in all the right places.”
“Yeah…”
Before I finish with a right, he touches my wrist and guides my hand to the front of his shorts.
“Can’t you feel how perfect you are? I’ve been rock solid ever since you agreed to come here. I’ve been fucking pulsing with how hard I am.”
I moan as I stroke my hand up and down his length. He’s not lying. He feels like he’s ready to explode any second. As he smooths his free hand down my stomach and to my underwear, I realize I’m able to let it all go—the doubt, the fear, the poet’s curse of constantly being outside myself, watching.
No. I’m in this moment. I’m with my man.
“We should go somewhere private,” I murmur. “What if Elliot…”
I giggle in delight when he sweeps me off my feet. He does it with such ease as though I weigh nothing. I feel like I’m flying as he carries me through the house. He makes me feel weightless and precious when he handles me like this.
He pauses near his door. “Help me out here, will you?” he whispers.
I laugh, reaching down for the handle.
The second it’s open, he pushes inside and carries me to the bed. His body feels on fire, heat smoldering up from inside. He lays me on the bed and then stands over me, visibly trembling, staring at me as if nobody else exists, has ever existed.
I’m getting poetic. Sue me. I can’t take this casually like Cleo would. I can’t be one hundred percent pure emotion like Lily, either. I’m somewhere in between, a unique mix that exists just for me and my man.
“What are you thinking?” he says passionately, climbing onto the bed, climbing on top of me.
I wrap my arms around him as he presses his body against mine, letting me feel all the hunger inside him.
“I was thinking that I’m done fighting,” I whisper, stroking my hands up and down his bare arms, feeling the solidness of his muscles, his lust pulsing through him. “I tried to pretend I could be like Cleo, that this was simple. I tried to pretend, full stop, but something’s happening here…”
“Valentine’s magic,” he says with an ironic smirk.
“Ha ha,” I mutter.
He kisses me fervently, trailing his hand up my leg, sizzling pleasure dancing up my thigh and kissing my core. My underwear feels suddenly wet and sticky.
“Who said I was joking?” he murmurs between frantic and hungry kisses.
“Magic, fate. It’s all so…”
“Poetic?” he offers.
I raise my eyebrow, squeezing down on his arms, digging my nails into his skin. My nails bend like they might break against his solid flesh. “I was going to say cheesy.”
“It’s Valentine’s magic, my voluptuous, virgin Valentine, but perhaps not in the way people usually mean ‘magic.’ A miracle led me to a night like that, dragged along by my friend. Where I just so happened to see the most beautiful, curviest, angelic woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and that some jerk gave me a chance to defend you. Call it a coincidence if you want, but something changed between us that night. Texting changed us. A simple walk down the beach, for us, meant so much more. Maybe it’s cheesy, but I was starting to give up hope of finding love before I met you.”
“Love?” I whisper.
“I know.” He kisses the edge of my mouth, making me shiver. “I’m moving too fast.”
I grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss. “That seems to be a theme with you…”
I kiss him deeply, losing myself in the sensation of our tongues flaring together, finding each other hungrily and desperately. The more we kiss, the less it means I have to talk to him about the L-word.
It should be impossible, right? Letting myself even entertain the L-word would be a very Mom-like thing to do. I need to slow down.
But when he presses his hand against my underwear, causing my clit to ache and my core to throb, all my doubts drain away. I don’t have to question everything.
In the back of my head, poetry starts to whisper.
I never knew if I wanted you, but a kiss, a touch, and your love proved me wrong. I was never sexy or desired, but then you came along…
I gasp when he kisses my neck and then moves down to my breasts. He unclips my bra and presses my mounds together, leaning back so that he can get a better look at me. His eyes are pure fire, his jaw tense, so flooded with lust and hunger that his veins push against his neck like he’s struggling to maintain a semblance of calm.