Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Where are you going to start?” She rubs my shoulders, then runs the tips of her fingers over my muscles. I hear a gulp and watch as she closes her eyes, embarrassed. I lean down and let her hide, though I hate that she’d feel anything but incredible when she’s with me.
“There are so many great options.” Kissing her collarbone and her neck, I slide my tongue higher and higher until I reach her ear, and whisper, “I’ve waited years to be with you.” Like this. In a relationship. Finding comfort in each other. Being myself. I knew back in high school that she was special. If to no one else, she was to me.
I brush her hair back, pushing enough away to admire her. Our connection runs deep. As it should for a married couple. God, I love that and will take advantage of the fact any chance I get if it means I get her—her smile, wit, her caring nature, and her intelligence. There are so many facets to this woman that I can’t name all the reasons I’ve fallen for her. It’s her as a whole person who has me captivated.
Her arms tighten around my neck, her eyes finding mine even in the dark. “Bad timing that we finally got right.” When she reaches between us, taking my dick in her hand, I shift to the side to give her better access. Sliding up and then down several times, she varies her pace, watching me and adjusting. “You’re big, babe. I’m nervous. It’s been . . . longer than I care to admit.”
Slipping my fingers into her hair, I’m not above encouraging her to put her mouth on me, but a driving desire keeps me focused on coming inside her, claiming her in ways that seemed impossible even a week ago. “Flattery works.” There’s a shyness to her smile that draws me in to kiss her. Fisting her hair gently in my fingers, I pull her close, making sure she’s looking at me when I say, “You don’t need to be nervous. It’s just you and me. I’ll do whatever feels best to you. Just tell me. Okay, babe?”
“Okay.” She takes a breath that seems to calm her tightened expression, softening the corners of her eyes. Her hand never stops jerking me off, not even a break in rhythm.
I shudder, wanting to collapse on the mattress. But she keeps me here, where it feels so good, so close to giving in to her hard work. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have condoms. It’s the one thing I forgot. Fuck.”
“Oh.” She stops, making me regret saying anything. Waiting to say anything for two more minutes would have worked out a lot better for me. She lies back with her breath coming heavy. “Oh no,” she says, draping her arm over her forehead. “That means . . .” Dropping her arm back to the mattress, she looks at me like I’ve stolen her favorite toy. Maybe I am that for her. I smirk even though nothing about this situation is funny.
“What does it mean? I mean, I know, but what were you going to say?”
She hesitates. I already know why. We haven’t talked about our sex lives. I think she wanted to avoid it as well. We’ve not exchanged details like how long and test results, so I don’t blame her for any reluctancy. I blame myself.
My sex life has been plastered across gossip sites since we became famous. It was shoved in her face without wanting the information. Different women in other states and countries, actresses, models, even a UN Ambassador. Online sites don’t get clicks for the truth. That’s boring to most. They get paid for the juicy gossip. I don’t talk about my history because there’s never been anyone worth mentioning. Until Cat.
“You’re worried about my past?”
“I don’t have to worry about mine.” She scrapes the tips of her nails over the scruff on my chin. “I’m sorry, but I need to protect myself.”
“Not from me. Not ever.”
“As a nurse—”
“It’s okay.” I kiss her head and move beside her, lying flat on the mattress. “My medical portal is online. I can show it to you.”
Sucking in a breath, she closes her lids just briefly, seeming to allow her to gather strength. “It’s not a fun topic, but it is important.” She exhales. “To me.”
“It is to me, too.” I run my knuckles over the back of her hand, then hold it in the small space between our legs. There’s no easy way to have this conversation, but right before fucking adds another layer of complication. I turn to my right to find her already looking at me. “I’ve not been with anyone since you, and we never—”
“No, we didn’t,” she says, sadness coating her tongue. I hate that she only remembers the pain instead of the happiness we shared. It took me a long time to get here, and I won’t taint that period with what went wrong. But I understand her dealing with it at her own pace.