Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He just hadn’t thought she would be one of them.
“That you know what you’re doing.”
He laughed. God, she was a surprise. Softly, he kissed her lips. And then harder. Until her arms were around his neck and her mouth was open against his.
“You worried I won’t get you off?” he asked, and she sucked in a breath at his words. He filed that away. She liked words.
“No. I mean…maybe? Not because of you. But because of me?”
“You want to come?” he asked.
She pulled a breath in through her nose so deeply her nostrils flared. And then nodded.
“Say it, Helen.”
“You say it.”
“I’m going to make you come.”
She moaned, her eyes all but rolling back in her head. “Micah,” she breathed. “Please.”
Yeah, he was a goner for her.
Her body melted into his and it felt like a victory. Like something he’d earned and he savored it. Her belly against his. Her breasts. The tops of her thighs. The lock of her arms behind his back.
He put his hands in her hair, pulling loose that bun so it all fell down around her shoulders, across his arms. It was still damp in places from being washed earlier, and he didn’t know why but he liked that. How intimate it was.
Against her belly, he was hard and she pressed into him. Behind his eyelids he saw sparks. Stars. Fuck.
Gasping for air, he pulled away from the kiss, pressed his lips to her neck, the soft skin under her jaw. She tilted back her head, letting him go where he wanted. His pulled her earlobe into his mouth, raked his teeth across it and she shook.
Oh, fuck, this kind of honesty was going to kill him. Literally end him.
He kissed his way down her neck and along the edge of the camisole that had been making him crazy. The freckles he couldn’t see in the moonlight, but that he’d spent the day memorizing.
There was one here. Right above her collarbone. Another here, near the strap of the camisole. Another one there, at the rise of her breast. He opened his lips, breathing her in. Licking her skin.
He went further. Bent deeper. Took more. His hand cupped her breast and she gasped, pulling him up to kiss.
Oh, she kissed him like there were secrets she needed to know buried inside. He kissed her back the same way. Sanity slipping. He pushed aside the camisole and touched her bare skin. Her breast, warm and full, was in his hand. The nipple hard under his fingers.
He broke the kiss, bent to pull her nipple into his mouth. Hard. Fierce. She rose up on her tiptoes, crying out.
“Helen?”
“More, please, oh my god, just…more.”
Suddenly nothing was slow and nothing was careful. It was need. It was years of it. She was the girl who’d sat with him at his lowest time so he wouldn’t be alone and he was wild to thank her. To show her what it meant to him.
She was the woman in the article, baring her soul and doing the impossible, and he wanted to show her what that meant to him.
He tore her shirt off and he could not get enough of her skin. He wanted to feel all of her with all of him.
He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clutching his head to her chest. His kissed his way from breast to breast, pulling her nipples into his mouth. Sucking her until her skin was damp. He took the three steps from the door to the bed, aware of how hot she was between her legs, pressed up against him. How wet. He bumped into the bed and laid her down, she didn’t let go of him and he was pulled down on top of her.
They fit together perfectly.
Her fingers made their way up under his shirt, across his stomach. Her thumb brushed his nipple, and he hissed and groaned.
“Take it off,” she whispered, and the words weren’t totally out of her mouth before both his shirts were off. The necklaces around his neck fell against her skin, without his shirt in the way. She laid her hand against them, pressing them against the warmth of her body, and it was strange and lovely.
“What are they?” she asked. “The necklaces.”
“You want to talk about that now?”
“I might forget later.”
He kissed her fingers, moving them out of his way. “St. Christopher from my mom when I dropped out of high school and started playing music on the road. And…” He lifted the second one, the squiggle of metal. “I have no idea where this came from or why I wear it.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I think a stylist on a magazine shoot gave it to me and I just liked it. You were expecting more?”
“I don’t know what to expect with you,” she said. “You’re constantly surprising.”