Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
This is going somewhere, and fast, if I don’t stop it.
I turn to face him, thinking a break from his lips will help, but that was a mistake. He’s standing so damn close to me, and now I’m staring at a wall of muscle and smooth skin that my fingers ache to touch.
I inhale deeply. He smells of citrus soap. If he doesn’t move away from me soon, I’m going to lose any resolve I have left. As it is, I can’t bring myself to be the one to put distance between us.
His eyes drop to my mouth and then farther to where my pebbled nipples hide behind my bulky T-shirt. Surely, he can’t see them.
A shiver skitters down my spine, all the same. “It’s cold in here,” I lie and struggle to keep a straight face at my foolish claim. It’s at least eighty degrees in this room.
His lips curl with a slow, sexy smirk as he leans in, until my mouth is just inches from his, and his shaky breath skates over mine. He’s struggling to restrain himself, waiting for me to make the next move.
“Shane …” My voice cracks with desperation, my eyes closed as I get lost in this heady haze that always seems to swirl around us when we’re this close.
He swallows hard. “Are you going to make me beg?”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” I say glibly.
When he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of me and stares up with those heated whiskey eyes, I want to take my casual words back.
My resolve no longer exists.
Strong hands seize my thighs, his fingertips stretching high and wide, his touch searing my bare skin. “How’s this?” he asks, his voice deep and raspy.
“It’s a start,” I manage.
“A start?” His eyebrow arches in question. “As in, I should keep going?” He waits a beat for me to answer—the sight of Shirtless Shane kneeling in front of me has stolen my voice—before leaning in to press his mouth on the exposed skin just below my belly button. Meanwhile, his calloused hands slide up the backs of my thighs and under the loose material of my shorts to grip my flesh.
I gasp as my body responds, flooding warmth between my legs.
What are you letting happen, Scarlet?
I’m sure as hell not about to stop it. I weave my hands through his messy brown mane as I enjoy his lips and tongue and hands against my skin. Even during all those years I had convinced myself that I hated Shane Beckett, I imagined moments like this.
It was never as good as the real thing.
He pulls away, pausing to meet my gaze for a moment—as if checking with me first—before his hands shift. With a tug, my shorts easily slip off my hips and fall to the floor. I step out of them without a word, wishing I’d had the foresight to throw on a sexier pair of underwear.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about doing this?” He nips at the front of my panties with his teeth.
“Once or twice?” Heat from his mouth radiates through the thin white cotton, and I wait anxiously for him to remove them too. This experience is already a hundred times better than Red Wine Golden Retriever Man and I’m still half-dressed in sloppy, paint-stained clothes.
Screw this.
With quick fingers, I unknot my T-shirt and grab the hem, hoisting it over my head to toss haphazardly to the floor. It leaves me standing there in my mismatched and unsexy bra and panties. There’s only one way to fix that. Reaching back, I quickly unfasten and shed my bra. Hooking my thumbs under my panties, I shed those too.
Shane leans back on his haunches and looks momentarily startled as he takes in my naked form. “Damn. You’re …” His intense gaze settles first on my breasts. “So incredibly beautiful.” And then he’s rising to his feet, catching my mouth with his on the way up, his hands cradling each side of my face. He gently herds me backward to my bed, all while his lips move fervently over mine.
The backs of my legs hit my bed frame and then suddenly I’m on my mattress, lying on my back, Shane on top of me, fitting his hips between my thighs. But he doesn’t move beyond kissing me, his hands weaving with mine to pin them above my head, our tongues tangled in a seductive dance that draws a moan from my throat.
It would be easy to skip foreplay, take off his shorts, and go straight to the main event. But Shane doesn’t seem to be in any rush, our kiss dragging on by the minute, much like we used to do all those years ago.
Except I’m naked, and he’s lying between my thighs, and his erection pressed against my core is torture that’s intensifying by the second.