Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Well, whenever the fuck it was,” I said breathlessly, “I noticed you at the bar that night even before my grandfather introduced us. I had no idea who you were, and you kept your face turned away from me, but there was something about you. I was practically writing poetry to your shoulder, since that was the part of you I could see best.”
Riggs snickered. “I’d like to hear that poetry sometime.”
I shoved at his shoulder playfully and retaliated by rolling us over on the bed, bringing our dicks into alignment with him on top.
He fumbled for my hands, grabbing one in each of his and pressing them against the mattress by my shoulders, holding me in place. Then he dipped his head and kissed me, slowly at first and then hotter, his tongue sliding against mine in a simulated fuck that was wet, and sloppy, and ruthless, and perfect.
I couldn’t help but wonder who the fuck I was, letting someone else take control like this…
Then Riggs broke the kiss, only to graze his teeth over my jaw before licking over the spot he’d bitten, and my cock literally jumped in a way I hadn’t known was anatomically possible.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasped dazedly.
Whoever I was, I was fucking loving this. I’d clearly been missing out.
He moved his mouth lower, pressing openmouthed kisses against my neck that made me writhe with pleasure, sucking a bruise right by the join of my shoulder, just because he could.
“I remember that night a little differently,” he offered. His warm breath fanning out against the damp skin of my neck made me shiver head to toe. “I noticed you too, but I already knew who you were, of course—”
“Of course. The…” I gasped as he sucked at my collarbone. “The babysitting job you didn’t want. That’s why you were such an asshole, mocking my distinguished lineage.” I grabbed at his hair with both hands, needing something to hold on to.
“Kinda.” He braced both palms on the bed and lifted himself up in push-up position so he could look at me. “I’m never rude to clients, though. You were the exception.”
“Lucky me.”
“Not because I didn’t want you, Duchess.” Riggs’s deep voice curled around those two syllables, taking the name from an insult to an endearment. “It was because I did. Because when I saw you at the bar, when I overheard you talking, I knew I’d have to put some distance between us, or else I’d want you in my bed. Champ doesn’t have a lot of rules for us, but fucking around with clients is an absolute no. I hate disappointing him.”
“Didn’t seem to stop you,” I noted. I tightened my fingers in his hair like maybe he’d have a really delayed attack of conscience and put a stop to the proceedings, and he leaned more of his weight on me so my cock pushed against his stomach.
“Barely made me hesitate,” he agreed. “How could I when you’re so… you? Defiant. Competent. Taking care of everyone, taking on their problems.” He worried my nipple with his teeth, and I jumped, accidentally yanking his hair harder than I meant to.
He chuckled into my skin.
“What are we doing here?” I demanded, pulling at his hair on purpose this time, making him raise his head. “I said I wanted you to fuck me, and you decided it would be fun to, what? Torment me? Is this your idea of foreplay?”
“Yep,” he said cheerfully. “I decided you need more than just a quick fucking, Dr. Carter. Now your job is to lie there and take it.”
Any desire I had to argue—and let’s be clear, I’d have been arguing just for the fun of it, because who says no when a six-foot-something solid mass of blistering hot sex tells you he wants you to lie back and take it? Not me—faded away when he moved even lower, licking at the join of my hip.
“Just promise me you’re not going to regret this tomorrow,” I demanded, using the last of my brain cells that hadn’t been zombified with lust.
He raised his head again, and the look in his dark eyes was… I didn’t know how to describe it. It was hot as fuck, obviously, like everything Riggs did, but it was so much more than that. It was amusement, and affection, and something like wonder. All the things that were written on Dunn’s face every time he looked at Tucker. All the things I hadn’t thought I’d ever see on someone who was looking at me.
You could fall in love with a man who looks at you like that, Carter Rogers, a voice in my mind whispered.
Which was ridiculous. Ree-dick-yuh-liss. Jesus Christ, it had only been two freaking weeks! And I was not the type of guy who did the hearts-and-flowers thing even under the best, most logical circumstances, which these were not.