Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
“Stop talking.”
My heart lifts up as if on wings. I open my mouth to object, but before I can, Hunter locks an arm around my waist and brings his other hand around to the back of my head, trapping me against him so he can lean down and press his lips to mine.
Just like that, half the common sense in my head flies out. My body responds eagerly, tingling in unspeakable places as I wind an arm around his waist and kiss him back.
I don’t want to want him, but God help me, I do. I don’t know how I can ever not want him.
My heart beats frantically as he kisses me, and it’s not even a demanding one. He starts slow and soft, knowing I’m nervous. He lures me in with gentleness, stealing the breath from my lungs and the strength from my legs. By the time he slides his hand between my thighs and caresses me there, my body is so tense, I cry out.
He takes advantage of my parted lips to force his tongue between them. I gasp against his mouth as he deepens the kiss, gripping my hip and turning me so the backs of my legs hit the bed.
I break away, trying to catch my breath. “Hunter…”
“Sh,” he says, pressing his lips against mine again as he slides his hand inside my panties.
Oh, God.
I want to say no, but a sharp spike of pleasure nearly splits me in half just feeling his fingers against my flesh.
I want more. I want to feel him inside me again, I want him naked and driving into me here in my bed, making it impossible to ever lie here without thinking about him again.
It can’t happen, though. I can’t let it.
“Hunter, stop,” I say, reaching down to push his hand away.
He sighs. “Not this again.”
He says it lightly, but it reminds me of how badly this all went last time.
I know it’s not the same this time. He’s not doing this to humiliate me in front of his friends, but that memory still stings.
And not as much as the bomb he dropped on me afterward.
“I can’t do this with you,” I tell him, shaking my head and looking down.
He reaches a finger under my chin and lifts it, making me look at him. “Sure you can.”
I shake my head sadly. “No. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
My heart aches at the sound of his voice, so low and soft, but hard and hungry at the same time. He’s trying to be patient with me, but he’s running out of patience. He wants to rip whatever obstacles there are between us out of the way and clear the path forward.
I want that, too. The problem is, the obstacle is him.
I don’t know how to say that. It feels mean.
While he waits for me to answer, Hunter pushes a strand of fallen hair behind my ear. He does it so casually, he robs the breath from my lungs, then his hand lingers.
He caresses the curve of my jaw almost absently, his gaze locked on me like a savage hunter observing the prey he’s about to devour.
There’s tenderness there, too.
It’s the tenderness that grips me, that keeps me from pulling away when I know I should.
The tips of his fingers start to trail slowly, softly down the curve of my neck. My whole body tenses as if in preparation for an attack. The breath gets stuck in my lungs, and I can scarcely breathe.
I feel cornered, but I’m not. He’s in front of me with a bed behind me, sure, but I know if I push Hunter away, he’ll let me.
But I don’t, and that’s where his power over me lies.
Inside me. All the soft, tender places he touched four years ago. The girl I was then never really had a chance to get over him, and now the girl I grew into has some weak spots just for him.
I bet he loves that.
“You know why,” I tell him.
“Valerie.” There’s a flat sort of disinterest in the way he says her name. He doesn’t like the taste of her name in his mouth. He doesn’t even like mentioning her here in this moment that should be all ours, and I certainly don’t like hearing it.
I nod.
“We’re done,” he tells me, like that’s the problem.
“That’s not the issue, and you know it.”
“It is the issue,” he argues, trying to make it simpler than it is. “Or, it was. Now it doesn’t have to be. I fixed it.”
I look up at him. “You broke it.”
He doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, he says, “I did, but then I fixed it.”
I shake my head, looking away from him. It’s easier to move away from him now, so I take advantage and walk to the foot of my bed. I need some distance from him, and there’s open floor over here so I can’t get trapped as easily.