Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Does that feel saintly?” he asked at my ear before running his tongue along the shell. “Because the things I want to do to you definitely put me in the sinner column.”
“Unh.” I couldn’t even make an intelligent sound as he kissed his way down my neck. I was all about the sinner column.
“How the hell do you smell so good?” he muttered. “God, I love waking up to you in my bed. We need to make this a regular thing.”
“I have my own house, you know.” My thighs shifted against his as he found a spot that turned me on like a freaking light switch.
“Fine.” He nipped at the base of my throat, and I slid my thigh over his. “We’ll sleep here when Fin’s home and at your place when she’s not. See how good I am at compromise?”
“Uh-huh. Is she used to seeing women in your bed?”
He flipped me to my back and rose over me with a look of pure disgust. “Hell no, she’s not. She’s never seen me in bed with a woman who wasn’t her mother, and it’s been so long since that happened, I doubt she even remembers, since she was probably about eighteen months old. I don’t bring women home, Morgan. Not here. Not ever. This is where I raise Fin.”
“But I’m here, and I qualify as a woman.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, which should tell you that this means something to me. You mean something to me, and it’s not casual.”
My breath caught.
“I thought we were in an exclusive non-relationship.” I raised my hand to his cheek and lightly stroked my palm over his raspy, unshaved skin. Sweet heavens, I was going to drown in his eyes if he kept looking at me like that.
“You can call it whatever you want, Kitty. Labels don’t matter to me unless they matter to you. I know what we are, and like I said—it’s not casual.” He settled between my thighs, and I hooked my ankle around his waist. His gaze dropped to my lips as his breath hitched. “I’m all in.”
That sweet ache in my heart devoured my common sense, and I pressed my lips together to keep the ill-advised words behind my teeth where they belonged.
“What’s wrong?” Concern filled his eyes.
I shook my head and pressed harder.
“Morgan. You gotta talk to me.” He lifted his thumb to my chin and gently pressed down so my lips parted, then touched the barest of kisses to my mouth.
“I think I’m falling for you,” I admitted in a rush, then prayed that the words had slurred or come out in French, Japanese, Russian, or any other language he didn’t speak.
He smiled, and it blew the previous, sexy, sleepy one right out of the freaking water. I was in trouble. So, so, so much trouble.
“Well, say something!”
The look he gave me was so tender, it made my eyes burn. “I don’t need to think. I already know. I’m just glad you’re catching up, because I am so far gone for you that I can’t even see the shore anymore.”
Oh. I pounced, claiming his mouth in a kiss as I grabbed onto whatever parts of him I could reach. The nape of his neck and the smooth, firm skin of his back became my only anchors as he parted my lips with his tongue and sank inside.
He kissed me so long and so hard that by the time he lifted his head, we were both panting, watching each other with lust-glazed eyes before diving in for round two. I was never going to get enough of this man. My need for him only grew each time he kissed me.
My hips arched against his, and the hard length of him stroked over the lace of my thong with enough force to push the fabric against my clit. “Jackson,” I moaned as the sensation rocketed through my body, prickling my skin.
His hand clenched my hip to hold me still as he repeated the motion.
We both groaned.
Two pieces of cloth separated our skin, and it was too much. I wanted him naked so I could feel every inch of him against me. I wanted him inside me, hard and deep. The muscles of my core clenched with a need so intense that I whimpered. This wasn’t just four years of pent-up sexual need talking—this was all because of Jackson. Just Jackson.
His shirt had ridden to my waist, and he tugged it up and over my breasts before lowering his head to one peak and teasing that nipple until it pebbled, and then the other, all while thrusting against me in a painfully, deliciously slow rhythm that had my nails digging little half-moons into his skin.
He moved like we had all day—like we had an eternity in this bedroom. His touches were unhurried and deliberate as he kissed every exposed inch of my skin. The man drove me insane. Every sensation pounded through my veins before it gathered low in my belly where it built a maddening tension.