Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“Hmm,” he purrs. Everything inside me contracts at the smooth press of his crown. “Fetishizing matrimony. I like that.”
“Context is everything,” I say, my body hungry, my thoughts a little dispirited.
But then he takes my hand. My left hand, and his thumb rubs over my diamond band. “I like the way this shines when you’re touching me. It makes me feel something I can’t explain.”
“That you like sparkly hand jobs?”
“I like your sparkly hand jobs.” He begins to slide down my body.
Who am I to stop him?
“What if…” The words are a rush of hot breath between my legs. “What if I wanted to call you my wife because you are my wife.”
My stomach flips as his hand slides up the bed, his fingers threading through mine.
“Because I want you to be my wife—because you want to be my wife. For real.”
“Maybe I want you to be my husband,” I say, switching things up.
“Yours.” His tongue licks into me, and I cry out. “I like the sound of that.”
“Oh fuck.” One hand in his, the other knotting in his hair as he presses just, oh, just there.
“I want you, Lavender.” His finger lazily slides in and out of me. “I want this to be real between us, not just legal.”
“Yes… but less talking.”
“You’re legally mine already.”
“Bought and—”
“Sweetheart, I’m paying for you in all kinds of unexpected ways.”
His tongue swipes my clit, and my fingers tighten in those silky strands. I’ll make him pay.
He makes a noise of agonized pleasure, burying his mouth between my legs, his kiss hot and deep.
“I want to call you my wife,” he growls, pressing his teeth to my inner thigh. I cry out as his tongue swipes across the sting. “For I want it to mean something.”
“Like?”
“Let’s stop pretending we both don’t feel this.” His head lifts, his eyes burning with intensity. “Be with me, Lavender. Be with me because you want to be with me. Because you want me.”
“You really have lost your marbles,” I say, but I’m smiling. Maybe even crying a little as I fight the inevitable.
But then he stops.
“Rude,” I complain. I could mean his actions or the fact that he’s looming over me. His palms pressed flat by my shoulders, his cock almost where I need him. God, it’s hard to know where to look, all that muscle and tan and Raif, and those dark eyes, burning with intensity.
“Are you proposing?” I breathe, my body primed to accept his. “Only, it’s supposed to be one knee,” I add, then wonder where the sentiment came from. He’s not professing love, is he?
His expression falters a touch, and his hand brushes up the outside of my ribs. A wildfire of sensations. “The truth is, I like you more than I planned for.” His big palm cups my cheek. “I like your feistiness and your mouth. Your kindness and your wit. How you are with Daisy. How you are with me. I’d be a fucking fool to believe any of my feelings are pretend. If you want me on my knees, I’ll do it and do it right. I want you, Lavender. I’m all in.”
38
RAIF
“When do you get off?”
Lavender gasps as I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. When she turns her head, I’m gifted with a sly half smile. “Whenever I feel like it.” Her hands fold over my arms, her tone a lick of warmth to the lining of my stomach.
“Well, isn’t that a little like having a dog and barking yourself?”
“A dog is only useful for barking when he’s in proximity.”
“Let’s take the dog out of the equation, princess. Do you mean to tell me you get off in your office?”
“You mean to tell me you don’t?”
I growl, maybe groan, tightening my arms. My cock strains in my pants, my mind and chest a mess of sentiments. It’s hard to tell if she’s being serious or not, which is pretty much how most of our interactions go. Right now, I choose to think she’s being serious because the image of her in her chair, maybe standing, her forearm braced against the wall as her hand disappears into gossamer thin panties is something that bears considering. Indulging in. Except for the image of Tod walking in and seeing her, seeing what belongs to me.
Fuck. I’d be forced to poke his eyeballs out of his head.
“Are you trying to make me burst a blood vessel again?” I find myself growling as my grip on her tightens. That literally happened last week. I made myself wait—made Lavender come three times before I got mine. But I guess I waited too long because when we made it to the bathroom (after the deed, sticky and sweaty, still kissing and touching) Lavender squealed, her hands reaching for my face.
“Oh my God! Your eye—it’s bleeding.”