Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 92835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
"Fuck."
I kiss her stomach again. Then lower. To the right. The left.
I follow her order.
She lets out another soft groan.
She tugs at my hair.
She slips her hand into my suit jacket. Reaches for my skin. "Off."
"Off?"
"The clothes." She lets out a heady sigh as she tugs at my hair. "Take off your jacket."
"Here?"
"No. Stand up."
I place one more kiss on her pelvis, then I rise. Look into her eyes as I slide my jacket off my shoulders. Drape it over the couch.
"I'm making you wait."
"You are."
"And you are tortured."
"Very."
"So, maybe…" She takes a step toward me. Taps my tie. "This off first."
I undo my tie. Toss it aside.
"Then… normal."
"Normal?"
"You're the one…"
"Are you sure?"
She nods.
Immediately, I lift her into my arms.
She squeals. "Adam. What are you doing?"
"Practice." I hold her to my chest.
"Practice?"
"Carrying my fiancée over the threshold."
Her lips curl into a goofy smile.
She's naked in my arms, in nothing but her shoes and jewelry, and I can't tear my eyes from her smile.
It's so fucking beautiful.
She's so fucking beautiful.
I want to make her smile every day for the rest of my fucking life.
Eleven months isn't enough. It's not even close to enough.
What could ever be enough?
I carry her to the bedroom, push the door open with my feet, lay her on the bed.
She sits up. Motions come here.
When I do, she stands, undoes the first button of my shirt.
The second.
She looks up at me, asking for permission, as she traces the third button.
I barely nod.
"Are you sure?" Her voice is soft. Patient.
I'm not sure. I'm not close to sure. But I want to be. I nod.
"Adam—"
I cut her off with a kiss. It's hard, hungry, asking for everything she can give.
She kisses back with equal parts tenderness and need. Offering everything she has. Asking only this in return.
It's nothing.
Her eyes on my body.
Her hands on my skin.
It's everything.
Her eyes on my body.
Her hands on my skin.
She undoes the fourth button.
The fifth.
The last.
She pushes my shirt off my shoulder. The right. Then the left.
Her fingers brush my shoulder. "You're shaking."
"No."
"You are." She traces my collarbone. "I can stop—"
"Don't." I swallow hard.
"Are you sure?"
"No."
She looks up at me with that same patience and tenderness.
This time, when I nod, she lets her eyes drift lower.
Over my chin.
Neck.
Shoulders.
Chest.
Stomach.
All the way to my belt buckle, then back up again.
She traces a scar on my shoulder. "Adam." Then another. Another. "They're not…" Another. Another. "They're…" Her palm goes flat against my chest. "You're beautiful."
"Beautiful?"
She nods. "Yes." She presses her lips to my neck. Shoulder. Chest. "Handsome." Her fingers dig into my skin. "Incredibly sexy."
"Because of the scars?"
"Because you're Adam." She presses her lips to my chest again. "Because they're a part of you. Because you're strong and caring and incredibly well-built."
My eyes close as she traces another scar.
"I'm fucking this up again, aren't I?"
"No."
"You're still shaking."
"I'm terrified."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"But you—"
I don't know what to say, so I kiss her.
She kisses back with hunger, need, compassion.
How the fuck can there be compassion in a kiss?
It doesn't make sense.
It's not what I want.
It's too close to places that hurt.
But, somewhere, deep down, in some place I don't want to look, I need it.
I need it too fucking badly.
She pulls back with a sigh. "Adam, please." She wraps her fingers around my wrist. Brings my hand to her upper thigh. "Fuck me, please."
That makes sense.
It's the only thing that makes sense.
I guide her onto the bed, onto her back.
She pulls me on top of her. Groans as my skin brushes her.
I wrap my arms around her. Hold her close as I join our bodies.
I should warm her up, tease her, taste her. But I'm too close to breaking.
This. Now.
She groans as I dive into her.
Slowly.
Savoring every sweet inch.
And more. The feeling of her skin against mine.
Every part of her body against every part of mine.
When was the last time I felt that?
Have I ever felt this? This overwhelming sense I'm home?
It consumes me.
From the top of my head to the bottom of my toes.
This is where I'm supposed to be.
With her.
Then her hand knots in my hair, and her lips find mine, and my body takes over.
I kiss her hard as I drive into her.
Slowly.
Softly.
Again and again.
Danielle kisses back, raising her hips to meet me, pulling me closer, deeper.
Further into her.
We stay locked like that, moving in tandem, lips locked, bodies tangled, until she's there.
She groans against my lips as she comes.
Her nails dig into my back.
Her pulsing pulls me over the edge.
I rock through my orgasm, spilling inside her, groaning her name as I come.
After, I collapse next to her, pull her body into mine, hold her close.
Every inch of her against every inch of me.
Every part of her mine.
And every part of me hers.
I almost join her in the shower.
I almost give into my desire to be in that tiny space with her.