Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
She kisses me back. I shift, settling on top of her and pressing my thigh between her legs. Aurora instantly digs her heels into the mat and arches up to rub herself against me. Wicked little thing.
I don’t mean to lace my fingers through hers. It seems the most natural thing in the world to go from gripping her wrists to pressing palm to palm. The shock is almost enough to jolt me out of this moment, but then she makes a delicious little whimpering sound, and I push away my misgivings in favor of drawing that sound from her again.
She rocks against me, and I press my thigh more firmly to her, giving her the friction she obviously needs. She kisses me like she needs me more than she needs air. It doesn’t matter that this is pure chemistry. That it doesn’t mean anything. I sink into the feeling of Aurora with everything I have.
Fuck, but if I were a different person, I might decide to keep her.
12
Aurora
They say love and hate are different sides of the same coin. So are lust and anger. Malone has turned my fury into an inferno that I’m terrified will burn me down to nothing but ash. She’s kissing me. Something I refuse to admit that I can’t get enough of. More, her entire body is pressed against me, and it feels like I’ve been starved for touch until this moment. Like the one thing I’m missing in my life is the slow slide of her soft skin against mine.
She’s holding me down, but it feels like we’re clutching each other, like we exist in a space outside the simple rules of gravity. I can’t help rubbing myself against her leg as her tongue strokes mine. It must be the endorphins still raging from the sparring session because I’m so turned on, I can barely think straight.
I can’t think straight.
I am pure need and raging emotions. I can’t tell which way is up, don’t care about anything but the press of Malone’s body against mine. She’s wearing a similar outfit—shorts and a sports bra—and I wish it was less. I want all of her against all of me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. I knew I wanted her, of course, but I never bargained for how much. She overwhelms me.
Malone shifts, pressing my hands more firmly to the mat, and uses her thigh to spread my legs wider. She releases my mouth long enough to nip my neck, sending a delicious frisson of desire through me. “Make yourself come. Use me.”
She kisses me again before I can respond, but what is there to say? I want this. Her command just makes it easier to take what I need. I grind on her leg like a horny teenager, chasing the pleasure sparking through my body.
Gods, the woman can kiss.
Malone maintains control, even in this. It’s perfect and precise and hot enough to set me aflame. She kisses me like she’s memorizing me. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do. I shouldn’t like it at all.
My orgasm overwhelms me between one breath and the next. I moan, and she drinks the sound. I could almost swear that she shivers in response, but it must be my imagination. Malone’s too distant to ever react to something as simple as a little grinding orgasm.
Finally, a small eternity later, she lifts her head and looks down at me. “Do you have something else you want to do to finish your workout?”
I blink. What is she…
My mind clicks into place sluggishly, pleasure making it hard to focus. “Um.” I lick my lips, tasting her there. “I was going to go for a run.”
“Good.” She sits back and pulls me up with her. Only then does she release my hands. I can feel the imprint of her there, too, but that’s no surprise. I can feel her all over my body. Somehow it never registered with the aftercare or her carrying me, but having her body against mine is more intoxicating than any alcohol. I want more, and I want it now. I start to reach for her, but she lightly slaps my hand. “Go finish your workout, Aurora.”
Shock eliminates my verbal breaks. “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I came.” I motion vaguely at her hips. “You didn’t.”
Her smile is more like the Malone I’m used to, sharp and icy. “You’ll make it up to me later. Finish your workout,” she repeats. “Then go upstairs and get ready. Cocktail attire, no bra or panties. We leave at seven.” She turns, and I can’t help but watch her walk away. She’s so fucking flawless, it’s almost offensive. Her workout gear shows off her muscle definition with every step, a visual indication of the strength I’ve felt time and time again. Maybe if she was just strong, she wouldn’t have such an effect on me, but Malone is so much more than brute strength. She’s an elegant kind of violence in a beautiful package. The perfect predator, anyone with a hint of intelligence recognizes it the moment she walks into a space.