Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
We were up on those swings in seconds. Me, standing straight and clutching the chains in a death grip, and him, crouching down so his head wouldn’t bump against the metal frame.
We ready, set, go-ed, then started swinging. I cheated a little, barely moving back and forth, then gained more speed and force when I realized Row was moving with so much momentum, the entire frame shook. He almost tipped me off with every move of his body.
“Can you tone it down?” I grumbled. “I might need more stitches after this game.”
“Here to win, not make friends.” He swung himself faster and harder.
Dread filtered into my system. I didn’t want him getting hurt. In fact, the idea of Row feeling any kind of pain made me want to scream. Especially after what he’d told me about Doug tonight. “Row. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Used to the pain.”
“Are you serious?”
He shrugged, swinging harder, looking like a boy determined to slay an imaginary dragon, the unoiled cylinders of the swing frame squeaking under our weight. “Why do you think I have so many tattoos? Pain is the only thing that reminds me that I’m alive.”
I want you to remember you’re alive for all the right reasons. Through smiling. And laughing. And kissing. Everywhere. Anywhere on your body.
Without thinking about what a colossal mistake I was making, I hurled myself off the swing, landing face-first on the cool, snow-sprinkled sand. My face was pressed against the ground. The cold felt good on my forehead wound.
I heard the rusty chains of Row’s swing screech, followed by the heavy thump of his body landing next to mine. “Shit, Dot. You okay?”
He rolled me over to my back and covered me with his entire body, lying flat on me, pressing himself against me. His bulging muscles warmed me, his erection nestled between my thighs. Desire shot up my belly like an arrow straight from my center, making my breasts swell, nipples stand on point, and mouth pool with saliva.
“Your heart.” I curled my fingers against his chest, in awe of how warm he was. “It’s going wild.”
His Adam’s apple moved with a swallow. He brushed a finger along a constellation of my freckles. “Yours too.”
“I lost the bet.” I gazed up at him. My lips stung with expectation. My heart was a hummingbird, flapping its wings against my rib cage, desperate to escape.
“I noticed.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. Silvery snowflakes fell from the sky, framing his gorgeous face. “On purpose.”
Gulping, I tried to change the subject. “Speaking of hearts, you know what I don’t get? How anyone ever thought ‘My Heart Will Go On’ is a fitting theme song for Titanic. I mean…how on the nose is that? After Jack literally saved Rose while slowly dying of hypothermia in front of her very eyes—and yes, there was enough space on that door for both of them—they have the audacity to use a song with lyrics that say she will go on, move on, to live her best, rich bitch lif—”
“Dot?”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Make me.”
“Baby, thought you’d never ask.”
There was no hesitation in his next move. His lips came crashing down on mine hungrily, sucking my oxygen and ripping my mouth open savagely, his tongue claiming mine in a kiss that made me whimper. I became lightheaded as our tongues entwined. He cradled my head in his rough palms to keep me contained, but I still thrust and thrashed, catching his lips whenever he pulled away for breath, biting and groaning, begging for more. The bandage on my forehead rustled, unfurling between us as we devoured one another. The kiss was impatient, demanding, feral, like he was already rooted deep inside me. Like this was the main dish, and not an appetizer, not a checklist to move on to something else.
I scooped his lower lip between my teeth, sucking it into my mouth, tracing it with my tongue. I snaked my hand between us and shoved my palm into his pants and boxers, cupping his dick and squeezing hard. The fat tip of his cock dripped warm precum into my palm. He let out a hiss of pleasure, pressing into my hand, and liquid warmth spread inside my chest.
“Shit, fuck,” he hissed into my mouth. In a frenzy, I circled my fingers around his shaft from the base, my thumb struggling to meet my index he was so thick. The kiss became wetter, sloppier when I began pumping his dick, stroking while massaging his balls with my pinky each time I hit the root. A feral growl of pleasure left his mouth. He grabbed my ass with quivering fingers, grinding against my hand with punishing force, releasing one of my ass cheeks only to slip his hand under the layers of jackets and shirts I was wearing, finding my bra and twisting one of my nipples through it. A shot of pleasure arrowed through me, and I moaned loudly, my center exploding with heat.