Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“You might’ve said.”
“You might’ve said you were unhappy,” he says, looking the opposite of that state. “You were the one who said you wanted to date other men. Maybe my sensitive little feelings were tweaked.” He reaches out and pinches my nose gently.
This is so strange. How have we gone from growly denials and sex that feels like he’s trying to imprint on me—or at least imprint the shape and sensation of his penis in me—to this? To flippancy. But before I have a chance to pull away in protest, his thumb slips to my bottom lip.
“I thought you would’ve understood.” His eyes turn golden as he lowers his head, meeting mine. “You have a standing invitation to my bedroom.”
“I didn’t want to presume,” I whisper, breathing in the scent of him.
“Oh, Mimi.” His thumb drifts away, his lips brushing mine. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I say, twisting my mouth from under his.
He pulls back with an amused chuckle. “You know, if I looked up unsubtle in a dictionary, I’m sure I’d see your picture there—”
“Is that supposed to be flattering? I say, speaking louder and over the top of him. “Is that how you woo women?”
“You’ve been the absolute opposite of subtle since you whirled yourself into my life. Happy or not, horny or not, I assumed you’d be sure to tell me where you were on those scales. Whenever you were on those scales.”
“How about cuddly?” I ask a little aggressively. “Am I allowed to demand affection?” Maybe I’m trying to frighten him off.
“Why the fuck not?” he says, leaning his weight onto his hip. “Have I missed something?”
“No.” I tilt my chin, my reply prickly. “I’m just checking.”
“Are you feeling cuddly right now?” His expression? It says quite clearly; you know you want me—want it. I mean, you know you want a hug. And dammit, I do.
“I might be,” I answer, slightly mollified.
“Bring it in.” He straightens, curling his finger in a come-hither motion.
I duck my head to hide my smile, knot my hand in the waistband of his pants and hop down from my stool. My happiness is easier to hide as he wraps his arms around me. My insides turn to goo at the low “hmmm” he makes as I bury my nose in his T-shirt.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“You have a very vivid imagination, Leif Whittington.”
“That’s true. However, you’ll have a very red bottom if we have to undergo anything like this again. His finger slides between us, lifting my chin to reveal my I’d like to see you try it, buster, face. “If you’re unhappy, you say so.”
“I’m pretty unhappy about being threatened.” My hands fasten around his forearm.
“It’s not a threat.”
“Oh, so it’s a promise? You promise you’ll spank me?” A derisive noise shoots from the back of my throat as I push his arm away.
“I promise you won’t always feel this way about it.”
“Ah!” The sound is short and sharp. “Right.”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“See, you’re still making it sound like you think there’s a spanking in my future.”
He grins though tries to rub it away, but it’s too stubborn. “If I’m honest, I’m counting on it.”
“Lord knows why.”
His expression? So so smug. “Because, while I like it when people do as they’re told, I also secretly like it sometimes when they don’t.”
“People?”
“You.”
“You want to spank me?” My tone is lower than I’d anticipated, but I put that down to his expression. No way I like the sound of being spanked.
“I want to possess you for a little while. Hear your gasp as you anticipate the contact. Make you moan when you push back onto my fingers, demanding more.”
Heat and light shoot though me, my insides as hot and as wild as a summer storm. “Sorry, I can’t see that happening.” My voice sounds wavery. I’m not lying. I can’t see it, but I can feel it viscerally.
“You’ll come around.”
“Wanna bet?” I demand, jutting out my chin. This is so confusing. Do I want to fight him or do I want him to make me.
“It would be unfair of me to take advantage of you when you’re obviously so… het up.”
“Who’s het up? And who says spanking is taking advantage. Unless you win, fair and square.”
“It’s more like giving.”
I make another pfft sound. “Still sounds like you don’t want to lay odds. In fact, it sounds to me like someone’s a itty bit chicken.” I make chicken wings with my elbows.
“Are you… clucking?” he says, trying not to be amused.
“If the feathers fit.”
“Fine, have it your way. I’ll take your bet.”
“I bet you a cool one hundred you won’t ever get to spank me. Not without my permission.”
“I’d give you a much cooler thousand right here and right now just to try it.”
I don’t know which is the bigger shock. The money he’s offering or the fact that I’m thinking about it—not even for the money but because he’s so sure about it. So sure about me.