Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
But he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, the sound he makes as he kisses me breathless all over again makes me think he likes me like this…so wild and desperate for his touch that all I can do is whimper and cling to his sweater as his fingers work magic between my legs.
He strokes and teases, the pressure perfect, the friction delicious.
And then he glides two thick fingers inside of me as the heel of his hand grinds into the top of my sex and all my worry, all my fear, all my inhibitions are washed away by a tidal wave of need.
I gasp his name and he groans and works me harder, deeper with his talented hand. “Fuck, yes, Maya. Let go for me, sweetheart. I want to see you fall apart. I want to feel you come all over my fingers.”
I shatter with a ragged cry that echoes in the still winter air, clinging to his shoulders as pleasure rocks through me, turning my world upside down. I’ve never felt anything like this—this passion so fierce and all-consuming it would be scary if I were alone.
But I’m not. Anthony holds me through it, murmuring praise, telling me how beautiful and perfect I am when I come for him, his touch gentling but not stopping until the last tremor subsides.
“Good?” he asks as he slowly pulls his hand away, sending a pang of disappointment through me at the loss of his fingers. Of the intimacy of feeling him touch me in a way no one ever has.
“Perfect,” I confess. I tug my bra back into place and reach for my sweater, feeling the chill in the air for the first time since he kissed me. I pull my sweater on, smoothing my hair as I add in a softer voice, “Completely, one-hundred percent perfect.”
“Not quite. Next time, I need my mouth on you,” he says, bringing the fingers that were just inside me to his mouth and slipping them inside, groaning as the taste of me hits his tongue.
The sight makes something primal inside me wake up and roar. Before I know it, I’m demanding, “I’ll taste you, too. I want you in my mouth. I want to make you feel as crazy as you make me feel.”
“You do, beautiful,” he says, his jaw tight. “I’m so hard right now, I have no idea how I’m going to make it to the exit without doing damage to myself.”
“Then let me…take care of you,” I say, only the slightest hesitation in my voice. I reach for his jeans, hoping I can figure out what to do—or better yet, that he’ll tell me exactly how to please him.
But he captures my wrist lightly in his fingers, holding my hand at a distance. “No,” he says, with a wince. “It’s okay. I actually. I um…” His breath rushes out with a soft laugh. “I like to suffer a little.”
My brows slide up my forehead.
“It’s going to make the moment I finally get to be with you even more incredible,” he says, his thumb rubbing in gentle circles at my wrist.
Just that tender touch is enough to make me ache for him all over again.
Even a couple days ago, I wouldn’t have understood what he meant, but now…I do. Waiting the entire forty-minute subway ride back to my motel to touch him again is going to be hell, but in a good way.
The longer we wait, the more the anticipation builds, the hotter it’s going to be when there’s finally nothing between his skin and mine.
Wow…this is really happening.
I’m about to step through a door into a whole new world, and my anxiety is finally gone. I’m not nervous at all, just excited.
And ready to head toward the exit. The garden is magical, but being with Anthony is going to be more magical, even in my dingy hotel room.
“Should we eat dessert while we head for the subway?” I ask.
He nods. “We absolutely should. Dark chocolate cherry mousse is the only thing that might possibly keep my mind off getting you naked again for five minutes.”
“Yum,” I say, my mouth watering. “I love dark chocolate and cherries together.”
“Me, too. It’s my favorite,” he says, the enthusiasm in his voice making me think he might be a foodie, too. “I’ll have to take you for ice cream later this week at my favorite place in Williamsburg. They have a dark chocolate and cherry chunk custard that will blow your mind. And there’s a Greek place not far away that has the best kabobs I’ve had anywhere outside of Athens. We could make an evening of it.”
“Sounds amazing.” I say. “I’m glad you like food, too. It would be hard to spend a week going out with someone who only eats salad.”
He huffs. “No way, woman. I’m a food snob from way back. Besides, we’re going to need fuel to keep our energy up. I have a feeling we’re not going to be getting much sleep.”