Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
His hands unclasp my bra and then I’m naked from the waist up, letting him drop his mouth to my breasts, tasting and sucking. He teases me more than I can bear, retribution for the snowballs, no doubt.
“You’re killing me,” I groan with anger.
He pulls back to look at me, his hair mussed from my hands, his lips cherry red and sexy. His smirk is almost too much, too cocky and arrogant. “Am I?”
“If I had a snowball, I’d dump it right on your head.”
He reaches up to cup my breasts, toying with them while he watches me. “You pissed me off this morning.”
“You piss me off every morning.”
His blue eyes darken and he leans in to kiss me, keeping his hands on me always, like he can’t get enough. I know he loves my curves. He doesn’t have to tell me my body drives him wild; I can feel him beneath me, hard as a rock.
He pulls back only enough that our foreheads are still touching. He keeps us here in this vulnerable space and I ask the tough question, the one I’ve wondered about all morning. “Did you think I left?”
It’s a moment before he answers. I wonder if he’s weighing his options, trying to decide just how brutally honest he should be with me. “I wasn’t sure. I checked your room and I didn’t think you’d leave all of your stuff, but…”
There was always the possibility.
I see the worry etched on his face, the fear he carried all morning. I could have so easily left my things here and gone back to the States with Andrew on a whim. In another life, I would have.
I reach up to trace a finger along the edge of his face, feeling the tension start to melt away from his temple and brows. I skim the sharp ridge of his cheekbone and I’m planning to continue this lazy perusal, but as I reach the edge of his scruff, he moves as swift as a snake and takes my finger into his mouth. His teeth clamp down.
“Ouch!” I yelp as I pull my finger out and shake it, mostly for show. The bite didn’t hurt.
He laughs and leans in, kissing me again.
I push him away, continuing our playful struggle, trying to get back at him for ruining my fun. But he doesn’t let me back off. He kisses me with renewed hunger. It’s possessive and hot.
He’s all-consuming in a way I’m not used to. I can feel myself slipping away so easily, inhibitions dropping one by one like dominoes. Have I ever sat shamelessly on top of a man undressed down to the waist, letting him look and touch me in this slow, agonizing way?
I want to cover up, and at the same time, I want to undress completely, expose myself and reclaim that power. There is nothing as sexy as a naked body, and I want to see Nate’s. I take off his jacket and shirt.
Finally, we’re on an even playing field again. Nate’s skin is warm and smooth. I take his bicep in my hand and marvel at my inability to get a decent grip. I’ve never thought I was interested in muscular men, but Nate has thoroughly disproved that theory.
I notice him watching me. We’re playing the same game—ogling each other and trying to be coy about it. I want to ask him what he’s planning to do with me, how much longer he’ll touch me without touching me.
I hate how serious he looks. I worry what’s in his head. Any other man with a half-naked woman on his lap would have stars in his eyes, but not Nate. His gaze swims with thoughts that would pierce my heart if I knew them. I get the impression he’s holding some of himself back, even now. It scares me how much power he has over me; the potential for unrequited love isn’t just a distant worry but a likely end. It would be fitting karmic retribution for what I just put Andrew through, I guess.
“We should stop now,” he says, suddenly somber enough to pull his hands off me.
“No.”
My tone is harsh and unyielding.
His gaze turns mean. “This can’t happen the way you want it to.”
“You don’t know what I want. Whatever it is you’re worried about, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
He looks away, toward the kitchen. His jaw is set. He’s struggling and I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t make sense of how this can be wrong.
I lean in and press a gentle kiss just below his ear. “Could I have you just once?” I whisper before taking the tip of his earlobe between my teeth. My hand is pressed to his chest and I feel how hard his heart is thumping. “Please. You won’t hurt me,” I promise, though even as I say it, it tastes like a lie.