Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
His eyes flicked up to meet mine across the room.
I instinctively looked away because I was staring.
His boots sounded against the floor as he approached.
I inhaled a deep breath when he drew near, both intimidated and comforted.
He took the seat beside me and continued to eat.
In silence, we sat together. No eye contact. No conversation.
My eyes found the courage to look at him once again, and the feeling I got from that stare returned. My heart raced and slowed all at the same time. My stomach tightened like it was growling for food. My fingers instantly twitched because I wanted to grab on to his arm and pull him close. It was more than physical. It was more than emotional. Claire had been my crutch at the cult, but now Benton was the foundation beneath my feet.
I stared.
He chewed his last bite of food before he set the plate on the coffee table.
My stare continued. My heart raced as I waited for him to meet my look. My fingertips were numb and hot at the same time. I craved his touch, his safety, the comfort that only he could deliver.
He drank his water then sat there, his eyes on the dead fireplace.
My eyes bored into his flesh. He must have felt it. Must have felt it like the sun on a summer day. That was exactly how I felt whenever he looked at me.
Then he did.
He turned his head, locked his beautiful eyes on me, and stared.
I forgot to breathe. His stare was so powerful. His presence was so strong.
The breaths I forgot to take suddenly came quick, making up for the air that I’d lost. My eyes dropped when I spotted my hand slide toward his, over his powerful thigh to his big fingers. I watched as a bystander, a witness rather than a participant.
My fingers slid over the back of his large hand, my fingers slipping into the spaces between his joints. He was searing hot, like a dish that had just been taken out of the broiling oven.
He didn’t pull away.
I stared for several more breaths before I raised my look and met his.
His hand was lifeless in mine, but his eyes thawed from the cold and turned warm. They pierced into me differently now, with a brooding and potent stare.
I held on like he might slip away if I let go.
His deep voice broke the silence, like a crackle in a burning fire. “You want me?”
I nodded.
His eyes bored into mine with increased focus.
I stopped breathing again, in anticipation of what would happen next. My eyes moved to his lips, waiting for them to press against mine and swallow all my fear, all my pain.
Then it happened.
He moved in, one hand sliding into my hair with the softness of silk, and then his lips pressed to mine in a gentle greeting.
My eyes instantly closed because I felt it.
Felt everything I wanted to feel.
His lips remained against mine in a long, poignant kiss before he pulled away and looked at me once more. Blue eyes penetrated mine, heartless on the surface, but an ocean underneath. His rough fingertips were still at the base of my neck, searing hot.
I wanted more.
My hand grabbed on to his cotton shirt, and I pulled him in.
He moved quicker this time once he realized this was exactly what I wanted, once he saw the flutter of my eyes, the warmth in my cheeks, the desperation for another kiss. His mouth took me gently once again, but his kisses were quicker, demanding. He took the lead, pulled my bottom lip into his mouth before his tongue pressed against mine.
My fingers released the tug on his shirt now that I had him, and my hands planted against the hard chest I’d stared at so many times when he sat on the couch and sipped his scotch. It was as hard as I imagined, like I was hitting stone.
My body relaxed, and I felt myself sink back, his heavy frame emerging over mine, a shield against the outside world. His hips were between my thighs, and his lips were on my neck, his hot breaths as delicious as his kisses.
My arms hooked over his shoulders, and I drew him close, smothered him against me, used him to feel higher than I’d ever been. My ankles locked together behind his back, and I turned into his kiss, catching his lips, one hand digging into the back of his hair. I moaned into his mouth as I squeezed his hips with my thighs, feeling his erection hard against me. “Take me to bed…”
The closed knuckles of his hand were pressed into the mattress beside me, his other hand directing his length inside me, the head of his dick giving my wetness a kiss through the condom. He pushed past my tightness then sank, his other hand moving back to the mattress to support himself.