Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
And with just this playful start, he has poured gasoline into my bloodstream. Does he know how fragile my restraint is right now? I am a sex demon in disguise. I am a fembot with only one program. I am only seconds away from licking the residue of sweat from his chest. I’m discovering things about myself, such as: I like sweat.
I set both hands on his thighs, stretching onto my toes for more, for longer and deeper, his surprised huffed breath coming out warm against my mouth as he lets me suck that beautiful lower lip, dragging my teeth along it in a way that makes him let go of a tight, helpless sound and which sends one hand into my hair. I fear I’m going to send him toppling backward into the ocean, but he leans in just as steadily, squeezing me close with those powerful thighs.
West’s mouth is unreal, commanding and firm, but with full, soft lips that beg to be bitten. He likes it when I do, too, releasing rough, rumbling sounds that seem to come from a cave filled with long, unsated need. My hands have a mind of their own, rising up over his hips to come to a stop on the warm solidity of his waist as our kissing ruse turns into an all-out groping session. He keeps one hand firmly fisted in my hair and sends the other down my back to my ass, pulling me close until I feel the hard press of him just beneath my breasts. He lets out a gasping laugh as I drag my teeth along his jaw, down his neck.
“To the contrary, your acting is pretty good,” I say, licking the salt of his throat.
He jerks at the contact, tightening his grip in my hair, holding my head close. “Yeah?”
“The erection is a great touch. I mean, very convincing.”
His laugh turns into a groan when I suck his neck, baring my teeth and pressing down. “Fuck yes.”
Well, well. Dr. Weston likes it a little rough.
I get high on his soft, dirty noises, and suck harder, scratching my nails around his back and up past his shoulders where I finally get my hands in that ridiculous head of hair. With his own grip on me, he yanks my head away and, eyes wild, comes for my mouth again, deeper now, setting a pace that is both slower and hotter, languid drags of his tongue over my lower lip, kisses that can only be described as claiming.
“God, your mouth is fucking amazing,” he says, dragging his teeth to my jaw, biting, sucking at my pulse point.
I have no idea how long we’ve been at it but my lips are tingly, there’s a very insistent boner pressed to my chest (hello again), and my legs are starting to shake from standing on my tiptoes. When I lift my gaze over West’s shoulder, Alex is gone. The beach is completely empty. Future me will kick myself for the rest of the day for saying it, but the words slip out: “He’s gone.”
West exhales shakily near my ear and then rests his forehead to mine. “Well… good. I guess we can stop.”
“I guess we can.” Leaning back and taking stock of him—rumpled hair, swollen lips, scratch marks on his sides, I realize I’ve also left a small purple bruise on his neck. “Oops.”
He frowns at me. “Did you give me a hickey, Green?”
“I might have.” I don’t miss the way his pupils dilate, inky black in the golden pools of his irises. “Well, the good news is now everyone will know for sure who you belong to.”
He laughs. “Unfortunately, Blaire will still grab my ass.”
“It’s a pretty great ass.” I step back, telling my body and brain to calm the hell down.
“Sorry, you’re…” West gently runs his thumb over my lips one last time. “You’re all red from my stubble.”
Maybe so, but I’m not the only one who looks like they just went at it pretty hard-core. His neck and chest are flushed, his eyes still burning as he hops from the railing.
I absolutely do not look down at his shorts; what kind of a trash goblin do you take me for?
But if I did look down, I would see quite a tent happening.
“Careful where you swing that thing.”
He laughs wryly. “I’m going to go take a cold shower.”
I nod, swallowing down the lusty scratch in my throat. “I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy.”
He retreats and I pull my phone out of my backpack, texting Vivi:
SOS. I am so fucked.
Eighteen
LIAM
Contrary to whatever Anna thinks I’m doing in the shower, I’m actually lecturing myself: You fuckwit. You imbecile. You are stronger than this. This absolutely cannot go any further.
I’ll say it as many times as I need to, because it’s the truth. Anna and I are two strangers in paradise, experiencing an attraction that absolutely would not persist back home. We are too different—temperaments, lifestyles, ambition, location—and we have one very simple task: fake a marriage. The goal here is to make it through the wedding, return to life as we know it, and quietly divorce in September. The goal here is the clean removal of my father from my life.