Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Jesus fucking Christ.
It seemed to go on forever.
Wave after wave of it.
And when the orgasm finally began to recede and my muscles relaxed, I was spent. A tingling, numb bliss moved through, and I struggled to catch my breath and slow my heartrate down. God, I needed it at a tempo where it didn’t seem like it was going to beat out of my chest.
Her head tipped forward, and she planted her forehead on my collarbone. It took her much longer to recover than I did, but I was content to let her stay exactly where she was, with me still lodged deep inside her. I could feel every aftershock of pleasure, every involuntary twitch she had left over from her orgasm.
The car was quiet except for her heavy breathing and the fan blowing out the life-saving air conditioning. Finally, she reluctantly peeled away from me, lifting her head and slowly blinking her dreamy eyes.
I kissed her.
Thoroughly.
And when that was done, she gingerly climbed off me. I turned on my side and flattened my ass against the door, making as much space as I could for her to lie beside me with us facing each other.
When I moved to pull the condom off, she once again reached for her purse.
“I brought a bag for you to . . .” She trailed off, either too shy to finish or too distracted watching my fingers as they knotted the condom up.
I grinned. The good girl had planned the whole thing, even down to how we’d get rid of the evidence. But as she retrieved the small plastic bag from her purse, passed it to me, and retrieved the torn wrapper from the cup holder, I got an idea.
The condom was dropped in the bag, but when she went to toss the wrapper in too, I pulled back. “How bad do you want to be?”
Confusion drew her gaze up to mine. “What?”
“You can throw that away,” I motioned to the foil wrapper and its branding that proudly announced what had been inside, “or maybe you leave it somewhere your dad will find next time he cleans his car.”
Sydney’s chest rose with a deep breath.
I was only half serious, and I honestly didn’t expect her to even consider it, but perhaps it had sounded like a challenge to her. The thoughts in her head were loud on her face as she mulled it over and weighed the consequences.
She reached over me and placed the wrapper down in the side pocket of the passenger door, then flashed me a brilliant, proud smile.
“All right, naughty girl.” I fired back a lopsided grin.
She nestled down on the seat, tucking one hand under the side of her face, and dropping the other to the tiny, empty spot of leather between us. “I guess if he gets mad enough and kicks me out, I can crash at Colin’s place.”
Did she realize that if she did that, it’d be impossible to keep seeing each other? Unless she stayed in the guest room at my place, like her brother had after he’d gotten kicked out.
Wait a minute. Slow the fuck down.
While dating Sydney was an idea I was starting to get on board with, living with her wasn’t one. It was way too much, way too soon. But the fact I’d considered it, even just for a second, when I’d realized I might not be able to see her anymore . . . well, that told me just how much trouble I’d gotten myself into.
How strong my feelings were for her.
I set my large hand on top of hers and pretended I didn’t notice the way her breath caught or how her eyes filled with excitement. She shifted the angle of her head, subtly scooting closer, and the lock of hair resting on her neck fell.
“Aw, shit,” I groaned.
“What? What is it?”
I stared at the pink spot on her neck. “Looks like I, uh, gave you a hickey. Sorry.”
I meant the apology, but I wasn’t that sorry. When I’d sucked on her neck, I hadn’t intended to do anything, but—fuck. I couldn’t deny it looked good, and I liked the idea of leaving my mark on her.
My gaze returned to her hand pinned beneath mine.
There was a red-purple line on her skin where she’d cut her finger the other night, and the memory made tightness pinch inside my chest. This was another mark I was responsible for, but this one I wished she didn’t have.
At least the cut looked like it was healing okay, and it probably wouldn’t leave a scar. Eventually, both of my marks would fade away and it’d be like they’d never happened.
Was that how it’d be for us?
Yeah, I fucking hated that idea.
Her fingers tapped the leather, moving absentmindedly, and her brow furrowed.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.