Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
“The scar on your thigh,” I asked. “When did you get it?”
“Many years ago, when I was dumb enough to get caught,” he answered.
It was so weird how he sometimes talked as if he’d lived dozens of years longer than I was sure he had. I knew that, for some, a year could feel like a lifetime. My gaze strayed, and my eyes widened.
Oh, my.
I bit down on my lip, knowing I probably shouldn’t stare. It seemed indecent to do so, but I wanted to.
“You keep looking at me like that, and this will be over before it starts.”
Cheeks heating, I dragged my gaze away. “I…you’re perfect.”
His expression tightened. “No, I’m not. You deserve someone who is, but I’m too much of a bastard to allow that.”
I shook my head, unsure how he couldn’t see that he was deserving. “I disagree with everything you just said.”
“Shocker,” he said, and then he curled his arm around me.
In a heartbeat, I was on the bed, and he was above me, the rough hair of his legs abrasive against mine in the most surprising, pleasant way. But the feel of him against my hip caused a nervous swallow, and also brought a reminder of a very real consequence that could come from this.
“Are you—?”
“Protected?” His thoughts obviously following the same path as mine. “I take the monthly aid.”
He was talking about the herb that rendered both males and females temporarily infertile. It could be drunk or chewed, and I heard that it tasted like sour milk.
“I assume you’re not,” he added.
I snorted.
“Wouldn’t that be a scandal?” he said, skimming his hand along my arm.
“It would.” I grinned. “But this…”
Those eyes met mine. “This changes everything.”
It did.
It really did.
And I was ready for that.
Hawke kissed me, and I wasn’t thinking of anything beyond how his lips had an almost drugging effect. We kissed until my heart was pounding, and my skin hummed with the pleasure of it. Then, only when I felt breathless, did he begin to explore.
His fingers trailed over every inch of exposed skin, and when his hand moved between my thighs, I cried out, quickly discovering that what he’d done with his fingers in the forest, over my breeches, was absolutely nothing compared to his skin against mine.
He worked his way down, using his mouth and then his tongue to follow the path his hands had blazed. He stayed in particularly sensitive areas, wringing sounds from me that made me briefly wonder just how thick the walls were, and then he lingered over the scars on my stomach, kissing them, worshipping them until I was sure that he didn’t find them disturbing or ugly in any way.
But then he moved lower still, past my navel.
My heart stopped as I felt his breath against where I ached so fiercely. I opened my eyes to find him settled between my legs, his golden gaze locking onto mine.
“Hawke,” I whispered.
One side of his lips curled up in a wicked, smoky half-grin. “Remember that first page of Miss Willa’s diary?”
“Yes.” I would never forget that first page.
Then, his gaze remaining on mine, he lowered his mouth.
My back bowed at the first touch of his lips, and my fingers dug into the sheets at the glide of his tongue. I thought my heart might stop, that maybe it already had. The riot of sensations he conjured up seemed unfathomable until that moment. It was almost too much, and I couldn’t hold still. I lifted my hips, and his rumbling growl of approval was nearly as good as what he was doing.
Gods…
My head fell back against the mattress, and I was aware that I was writhing, squirming, and there was no sense of rhythm behind my movements. But that sharp tightening deep inside me was coiling and twisting, and then it all unraveled, stunning me with its intensity. I might’ve said his name. I might’ve actually screamed something incoherent. I didn’t know, and it took what felt like a small eternity before I could even open my eyes.
Hawke lifted his head, lips swollen and glossy in the candlelight. The intensity in his stare scorched my skin as his gaze caught and held mine. He never looked prouder of himself as his mouth parted and the tip of his tongue glided over his lips. “Honeydew,” he growled. “Just like I said.”
My breath caught, and I shuddered. He didn’t so much move as he prowled up the length of my boneless form. I watched him, unable to look away as the hardness of his body caressed mine, unable to stop the shiver when the rough hairs of his legs tickled sensitive skin.
“Poppy,” he breathed, his lips touching mine. He kissed me, and my skin heated at his flavor, the taste of me and those strangely sharp teeth of his. My senses whirled at the feeling of him settling between my legs, prodding, pressing in just a bit. “Open your eyes.”