Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
"Thanks," he says as he gives my arm a little jerk, landing me right back against his chest. "You can take a look around during the intermission."
"Inter—"
His lips are on mine again before I can question him. He's carnal, needy, as if desperate for something he's been missing.
I know better than to think this is anything other than scratching an itch, but I can't help where my mind takes me.
"Let's go," he pants when the kiss breaks.
He slides his hand down my arm until our fingers are tangled, and then he drags me toward the massive stairs leading to the second floor.
I huff a laugh as I nearly lose my footing with the urgency in my steps.
"Slow down, Romeo, I'm a foot shorter than you."
He pauses, turning back toward me, and he has that same glint in his eyes that he had when he threw me over his shoulder.
"Nope," I say, holding my hands up. "I can walk."
The last damn thing we need is toppling backward on the stairs and breaking both our necks.
"In here," he says as he enters his room, not wasting a second before angling toward the en suite.
I don't have but a second to look around his room. The massive bed against the far wall is expected because he's a huge guy, but the plaid comforter and throw pillows seem a little out of place.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask as I step into the bathroom behind him. I’m struck a little stupid by how he just grips his t-shirt at the back of his neck before pulling it over his head.
"What? Seriously? No, I don't have a girlfriend. Why the hell would you even think that?"
He continues to get undressed, his adept hands unbuckling his belt before working on the snap and zipper of his jeans.
"You have throw pillows on your bed. That seems like something a girlfriend would do," I say, hitching my thumb over my shoulder.
"They came with the bedding kit," he mutters. "Are you getting naked?"
My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. I mean, logistically, I knew I was going to come out of some of my clothes, but the way he asks it makes it sound like he fully expected me to strip to my skin right here, in this harsh light.
"What?"
"Naked, Riley," he says as he kicks off his boots before shoving his jeans and boxers down to his ankles in one swoop of motion.
"Holy shit," I whisper, both surprised with the speed this is going and a little entranced by his body.
His smile is wide when he pulls his belt free of his jeans and empties his pockets into a small basket on the bathroom counter.
"You're naked."
"And you're not," he says. "I didn't get a chance to shower after work before heading to the bar. Are you joining me?"
"I showered," I say stupidly.
I literally had a list when I was younger of all the things I wanted to experience with this man, but it never even occurred to me to add take a shower together. Maybe it was my own naivety, but I feel like I need to reevaluate that list.
"I'll let you wash my back," he says, his smile growing wider.
I take a step back, crossing my arms over my middle. "I don't think that's a good idea."
His head tilts, eyes dropping to my arms.
"That's not going to be a thing," he says, pointing to me. "We aren't even going to talk about it.”
He steps closer to me, his hands unfolding my arms before reaching for the bottom hem of my shirt. With not an ounce of flair, he pulls it over my head.
"Mmm. This is going to be so much fun."
His thumb skates over the tip of my breast, and when I try to look away from him, that same damn finger curls under my chin.
His lips meet mine, a little softer, a little more reverent, as his arms circle my body. Maybe when I'm alone, I'll have some time to spend wondering just how many women he's been with that he can literally snap his fingers and get my bra open. Now, I'm too focused on trying not to reach my hands down and wrap them around his cock, seeing as it's pressing against my bare stomach right now.
I could argue that he doesn't like what he sees, but the dampness leaking from the tip of him is some level of proof that he is.
"And these," he says, breaking the kiss as he pulls my bra off and lets it fall to our feet before reaching for the button on my jeans. "Unless you want them to get wetter."
My eyes widen, embarrassment making my face flame, but I clear my throat, wanting to challenge him more than anything.
"What makes you think I'm wet?"
"This little mouth," he says, running his fingers over my lips before moving them down my body. "Doesn't make the kind of noises you were making unless this pussy is wet."