Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
“I hope so,” she whispered, not convinced, but cautiously optimistic.
They sat in silence for a while longer.
“Ready to go?” he asked, dusting sand from his hands.
“Yes. Thank you. I did need the break.” Another flash of his dimples before he pushed to his feet and reached down to help her up.
The rush of dizziness that accompanied the movement made her sway alarmingly and Cade’s hands clamped over her bent elbows to steady her.
“Whoa, are you okay?”
“Yes. I just get a little dizzy when I go from sitting to standing too fast,” she explained, then forced a determinedly cheerful smile that did nothing to coax a returning one from him. “But I’m okay now.”
“You’re fucking not okay, stop saying you are.” He sounded annoyed, impatient and it reflected in the dark glower he leveled at her. He led her to the foot of the stairs and turned around, squatting slightly in front of her. She stared at his broad back in bewilderment before he tersely ordered her to hop on.
“What?” she squeaked. “No. It’s a long way up.”
“Unlike some people I could mention, I know when to take breaks. You’re not walking home.”
“No, Cade… if we take our time, I’ll get there under my own steam, you can’t carry me all the way back. I’m too heavy.”
The amount of disdain in the throaty sound he made was pretty insulting and he cocked a skeptical brow as he looked over his shoulder at her.
“No offence but you look like a strong gust of wind could knock you over.”
“Well, I am offended,” she responded indignantly. “I’m sturdier than I appear.”
“You’re a wisp,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Now come on, will you? You’re wasting my time. I have a Zoom meeting in an hour. I need to get showered and changed before then.”
She stared at his back uncertainly. Nobody had ever given her a piggyback ride before, and she wasn’t sure exactly how to go about this. She’d seen it, of course, and understood the basic mechanics of it.
So, she was just supposed to mount his back like she would a horse? If only she knew how to ride a horse.
She shuffled closer and tentatively placed her hands on his broad, muscular shoulders. Then snatched them back instantly when the heat of his skin scorched her palms through the fabric of his shirt.
Okay maybe scorched was too strong a word. Lightly scalded was more realistic. She smoothed her tingling palms over the fabric of her skirt and tried again, curling her palms over his shoulders and launching herself at his back. He absorbed the impact of her weight with a slight—unflattering—oof and quickly hooked his huge hands under her knees to support her. Because she was wearing a rather flowy skirt, his hands found the sensitive bare skin at the back of her knees, and she tried very hard to ignore the unfamiliar sensation of his touch on her skin. But it was difficult when she wasn’t used to being touched, even casually, by anyone.
She lifted one hand from his shoulder in an attempt to check if her skirt was covering her backside and he made an irritated noise, easily hefting her higher up on his back when she slid down slightly.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped. “Hold on.”
“Sorry, my skirt was riding up.”
“Christ.” The curse rode its way to her on a whisper, before he raised his voice to ask, “Good to go?”
Satisfied that she was modestly covered, she curled her arms round his neck, hand closing over wrist to create a loose loop. Her legs were sticking straight out and recognizing that it wasn’t very practical or comfortable for either of them, she tucked them back, trapping his hands in the folds of her knees.
She tried not to think about that… or the fact that her front was plastered against his broad back. She wanted to ignore the feel of his strong body beneath hers as he started to climb, but it was hard to do so when her thighs were spread wide over his hips and she was riding above the hard, curve of his tight behind. With nothing but the silk of her panties and the fabric of his shirt between her intimate parts and the small of his back.
They didn’t speak, he walked at a brisk pace, barely seeming to get winded as he went. The movement caused Fern to inadvertently rub against him and she felt—she stifled a groan—God, she felt way too much.
“Do you need a break?” she asked, dropping the question directly into his ear, which was mere centimeters away from her mouth. Lord knew, she needed a break.
He paused, turning his head but unable to quite look at her because of the angle.
“I’m fine. Do you need a break?” For a second, she panicked, wondering if he was asking her that because he knew that she was feeling things. “Are you nauseous?”