Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
He hauled me higher up his chest, then stood, turning and sitting on the sofa so I straddled him. He caged me in his arms, banding them around my waist like bars of iron. Our chests melded together, making me wish our clothing was gone. Even through the fabric, I felt his heat, the temperature warming me, making me pliable and soft. Making me his to mold and shape.
His tongue slid along mine in sensuous passes. He explored my mouth, his taste lingering. Brandy, mint, and Egan.
He was delicious. Addictive.
He made low noises in the back of his throat. His chest rumbled. He never stopped touching me, his hands delving under my shirt, dancing over the skin of my back, gripping my hips, pulling me closer, flicking over the sides of my breasts, his fingers caressing my nipples.
And all the while, his mouth making love to mine.
I had never been kissed like this. Never known a man to convey so much with his lips while not speaking a word. I felt his desire, his need, his want.
His love.
It settled into my bones, saturating my body. Spread into every crevice, drip by drip. Life-affirming. Life-altering.
He pulled back, dropping his head to my shoulder, turning his face into my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
“We have to stop.”
“Why?” I whimpered, seeking his mouth again.
With a groan, he took my lips, nipping, tasting, pressing soft kisses to them.
“You are tired, iubirea mea. You need to rest. If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to control myself. There will not be sleep for hours. If even then.”
I cupped the impressive erection trapped between us. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”
He groaned, the sound torn from his throat. “When I make you mine, it will be forever, Sofia. I want you to be sure.”
I stilled, and he met my eyes, his voice raspy. “I will wait.”
He stood, taking me with him. He carried me down the hall, setting me on his bed and pulling the blanket over me. “You will sleep. I will watch over you,” he said simply, sliding in beside me, leaning up on his elbow.
“You’ll be bored.”
“No. I will rest too. I didn’t sleep well last night. My body sensed your turmoil.”
“Pardon me?”
He traced a finger over my cheek. “My parents had a connection. They always said they could feel the other person’s emotions. I used to laugh at them, thinking they were crazy—old folklore. But I get it. I feel you, Sofia. In my chest. In my mind. I know when you hurt. I feel your sadness. When you need more care. More distance.” He frowned. “I hate that one, but I give it to you.”
“Why have you been so patient?” I asked. “It’s been over two years.”
He lifted one shoulder. “I knew you would be worth it. I had your friendship. Your trust. I had faith, in time, the rest would follow. My connection to you was too strong for it not to.” He tucked the blanket higher. “Sleep. Know I am here and will watch over you. Then when you wake, we will step forward.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my head. “Together.”
With a small sigh, I shut my eyes. I could feel Egan’s warmth beside me. A solid weight of strength. I lifted my arm, settling it on his hip, and he pulled me tight to his chest, draping his arm over my waist. I buried my head into his chest and breathed him in. He always smelled so good, and I knew the cologne he wore was one of his own creations. Sensuous and deep, the notes of sandalwood, musk, and citrus were perfect on him. I sighed in contentment. “I love how you smell.”
He kissed my head, not speaking. I began to drift when I heard his voice again.
“Soon you will be soaked in me, Sofia. Where I end, you will begin.”
I liked the sound of that.
I woke up slowly, warm, more rested than I could remember feeling in a long time, and wrapped around Egan. He was leaning against the headboard, reading. I had my head on his stomach, my arms enfolded around his waist. I was curled into a ball beside him, the blankets pulled high over my shoulders. A plush pillow was under my head, and Egan stroked his fingers through my hair in gentle passes, pausing on occasion to turn the page. I peered up at him, studying him for a moment. He wore glasses, simple black frames that made him even sexier than usual. His chest was bare, a smattering of hair glinting in the light from the bedside table. He lifted his hand to turn the page and glanced down, meeting my eyes. He smiled as he shut his book, drifting his fingers down my cheek.