Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
It’s both familiar and new, but it’s not frightening, not even when he locks his large hands around my knees and pushes my legs apart. He fixes his gaze on the mark just above my slit, the one that’s a mirror image of the tattoo on his chest. Possession sparks in his eyes. Something like longing reflects in their depths as he drags his gaze lower. My skin is covered in salt from the sea, but I couldn’t care when he kneels at the edge of the bed and buries his head between my thighs.
The sweep of his tongue over my slit makes my hips arch. The soft kiss he plants on my clit makes me sigh. My body didn’t forget his touch or the way his tongue feels on my skin. I’m wet even before he rubs a thumb over my clit and traces the outline of his mark with his tongue.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I hold him to me as he tastes me deeper. His lips are warm and soft. His exploration is gentle. He nips my clit with the softest of bites, keeping the bud in the vise of his teeth as he teases it with the tip of his tongue. I forgot how skillful he is, and that oversight counts against me as pleasure tightens my lower body and builds too quickly.
I feel him inside me, his fingers slipping through the slickness of my arousal and filling me with a pressure that makes my toes curl. When he starts pumping, it happens too fast. I come in his mouth and on his hand, my sense of time and place crumbling like a wall that comes down.
I clench my fingers in his hair, no doubt doing damage to his scalp with my nails. “Angelo.”
He lifts his head to look at me, his eyes gleaming with both victory and vulnerability. Hooking his hands under my armpits, he shifts me to the center of the bed. Then he crawls over me, covering every inch of my skin with his.
“Say it again,” he says, kissing a sensitive spot on my neck. “Let me hear it.”
I utter a content little sigh. “Angelo.”
His regret is honest. “There was a time I believed I’d never hear my name on your lips again.”
“So did I.” I cup his face. “I promised to never say it as long as I live, but I guess a part of me did die that night.”
He cups my hand over his cheek, emotions playing in his eyes. “Bella.”
“But I’m here, and I want you.”
His features set with the fierce determination I got to know so well. “And you will have what you want.” He settles between my thighs, spreading my legs. “Always.”
His cock presses like a steel rod against my folds. I rub my lower body over his hardness, inviting a groan that reverberates deep in his chest. I need him inside me. I want him to fill me. Wrapping my hand around his length, I guide the large crest to my opening, but he catches my wrist.
“Not yet, cara.” He kisses my lips, tasting of salt and sea and memories of us. “Let me make this last.”
The impatience punishing me is new, but it’s only physical. My mind doesn’t mind the wait. My heart wants what he does—to make the moment last forever. He presses his lips on my eyes and on the beauty spot at the corner of my mouth. He’s so gentle I want to cry. We started like a hailstorm that mutilated flowers and crippled trees, and we ended like a soft drizzle that nurtures the soil and leaves crystal drops on delicate petals.
He kisses a path down my body all the way to my belly button and back. His tongue is warm on my nipples, his mouth wet and familiar. His kisses are like rain in a thirsty riverbed, the drops soaking the soil and mending the cracks in the dry earth. His lips are like medicine, offering something more powerful than hope.
When he wraps his hand around mine where my fingers are locked around his cock and shows me what he wants, I stroke him eagerly.
Sealing his lips over mine, he kisses me with the same gentleness of earlier as he parts my folds and slowly sinks inside me. This too is familiar—the stretch and the way my nerve-endings ignite. The way my body comes alive for him in a different way.
I wrap my legs around his ass and cling to him as he rocks inside me with an unhurried pace. Our gazes lock. He intertwines our fingers and stretches my arms above my head while searching my eyes, giving me answers before I even thought about the questions.
“I love you, Sabella Edwards-Russo.”
The man claiming my body is every bit the dangerous, obsessive predator I got to know, but for me, his smile is tender.