Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
For me.
I also think he’s been told so often that he’s a freak of nature that he started believing it.
His father’s ugliness crawled down inside him and still whispers in his ear, telling him he’s no good. He doesn’t know he’s so right for me, it’s actually insane.
So no, there’s no telling him, not with words.
Only another way.
Stepping back, I break his hold and reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together. I tug his hand lightly as I walk to my bedroom, an open invitation.
To be with me.
To destroy me, if he must.
He could pull free so easily and storm away when we’re barely touching.
But he doesn’t.
With a rough breath, he follows, never releasing my hand.
My heart leaps, thunder building with a power that feels too great for my small body.
The power to make this man undone.
When I meet his eyes and realize it, I’m almost giddy.
He’s almost helpless with thirst.
That’s the strangeness I saw before.
This man is so lonely, so disciplined, that when someone reaches out and offers to break down his walls, how can he resist?
I hurt for him as much as I want him.
And as I step backward into my bedroom, crossing the threshold, I stop and tug on his hand to draw him in closer, then rise up on my toes and press my lips to his.
“Close the door,” I whisper before retreating deeper into the room.
There’s no turning back now.
Before I can second-guess, I catch the hem of my babydoll tee and pull it over my head, baring the cups of my bra in pink lace rosettes.
“Fucking pink all over,” he growls with amusement. “You’re a born tease, Shortcake.”
Blushing, I shake my hair loose from the shirt and toss it aside. I bite my lip, watching him and praying he’ll like what he sees.
There’s a trembling silence.
A dead moment where I worry Micah will turn his back and walk out the door, and in that moment, I love and hate the nerves eating me alive.
This impulse, this risk, taking a leap of faith instead of playing it safe—it could come crashing down right here.
I could find out the hard way that risks are never worth it.
But then he steps closer, prowling toward me.
His eyes are barely even human.
“Talia,” he rumbles, taking me into his arms and kissing me so hard my vision blurs.
He pulls me up until my feet aren’t on the floor.
Then I’m devoured.
His hands on my bare skin.
His lips claiming mine.
Everything—everything!—about his touch feels so possessive, and it’s all so raw and new that I’m ready to scream just from feeling his uniform shirt scraping my bare flesh.
Just from feeling my breasts against his chest as he pulls me closer and sucks my bottom lip until I’m delirious.
He’s got the devil’s own tongue.
I can barely kiss him back when he’s turning me inside out with slow, wet thrusts that leave my lips so tender.
So sensitive that when he nips at them with those sharp teeth, I gasp. My thighs shake as I fall against him with a moan.
There’s a dark, raspy laugh when he does it again, catching me with rough hands on my hips as my entire weight collapses against him.
“Did you come already, girl? All from a kiss?”
“No!” I gasp, then stop. “At least, I don’t think I did… What does it feel like?”
Sad.
But how do you describe an ocean sunset to the blind?
Does it feel like this wet sugary sensation inside me, clenching up tight, hot and molten and quaking between my thighs until my whole flesh simmers?
Does it feel like the way my whole body comes alive?
Every sensation stronger than before, stronger than ever, throbbing in my fingers and toes and nipples, and the heavy, full sensation in my breasts?
Micah’s eyes flash with awe as he stares at me.
“Have you never?” he asks softly.
Part of me wants to crawl away and die.
God, he’ll mock me for this.
He’ll laugh and tell me to take my little girl self somewhere else and leave him to find a real woman with experience. The kind of worldly woman he probably knew back in New York.
“Never,” I admit, lowering my eyes.
I’m expecting a snort.
A startled chuckle.
Pure derision.
Rejection, however polite.
What I don’t expect is the reverence in his voice as he sighs my name like a prayer and curses.
“Talia, fuck.”
Then he kisses me again.
This time, it’s different.
Slower and softer and tender, caressing my mouth in gentle strokes.
I feel like he’s trying to tell me something, but my brain is so hazed up right now I don’t understand. I can’t.
Nothing except for how good he feels.
Everything about him feels divine.
His weight, his kiss, the careful way he handles me as rough palms slide down my waist. He hefts me up with an easy strength that scrambles my senses.
Suddenly, I’m weightless again, my body floating as he raises me up.