The Things We Leave Unfinished Read Online Rebecca Yarros

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
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“Sure. Slow, later. Fast, here. Now.” The urgency clawing its way through me wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than hot and hard.

The sound that escaped him reminded me of a growl before he sealed his mouth over mine and kissed me senseless. We were a tangle of hands and mouths, kicking off our shoes before Noah gripped my ass and lifted me like I weighed nothing.

My legs wrapped around his waist, and I locked my ankles at the small of his back as he carried me from the office, striding up the stairs without so much as getting winded. Tension radiated from his muscles as he walked us down the hall and into my bedroom, but his kiss never wavered.

I felt the bed under my back as Noah rose above me, his hands sliding under me to unclasp my bra. Then it, too, was on the floor, followed quickly by my jeans.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he said reverently, sitting back on his knees as he slid his fingers along my throat, down the valley between my breasts, and over my stomach to the thin straps of my underwear. My skin tingled in the wake of his touch.

I mentally gave myself a high-five that I’d gone with the pink lace thong this morning on a whim—then that was gone, too, the lacy fabric quickly replaced by his mouth.

“Noah!” I cried, fisting one hand in his hair as the other clutched at the covers to keep me grounded.

Holy shit, the man’s tongue was magical. He worked me with sweeping strokes, quick flicks, and even the light scrape of his teeth, cradling my hips as I began to writhe beneath him. The pleasure was too intense, too consuming, too wild, and it only grew as he slid first one, then two fingers inside me. I clenched around him, my eyes slamming shut against the onslaught, my neck arching as he stroked me. It had never been like this for me. Ever. How had I lived without this desperate desire that was turning me molten? I didn’t just want him, I needed him.

The fire he stoked gathered in my belly, coiling like a spring, winding tighter with every lick, every press of his fingers, until my thighs trembled and my muscles locked. Then he sucked my clit between his lips, and I shattered, the orgasm sweeping over me in long, powerful waves that had me screaming his name.

He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, then rose over me with a satisfied smile—like he’d just had the orgasm of his life, not me. “I could spend days with you under my tongue and still want more.”

That flame of need flared back to life, bright and hungry. “I need you.” I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to mine, kissing him long and hard.

We separated only long enough for him to strip naked, and I blatantly ogled the lines of his ass as he slipped a condom from his wallet, dropping the leather to the pile of denim at his feet.

I sat up and took the packet from him, ripping it open and rolling it onto his length, stroking over him once before he groaned and captured my hands in his.

“Tell me you’re sure.” His words were clipped and low as his gaze locked with mine.

“I’m sure.” I tugged lightly in his grip, urging him back to me.

He took the hint, sliding over me to rest in the cradle of my thighs. He kissed me deeply, learning my curves with long, caressing sweeps of his hands, lingering on my breasts and sweeping his thumbs over my nipples before teasing the dip of my waist and gripping my hips. “Incredible. That’s the only word for you.”

He stole any reply I could have made with a kiss, so I rocked my hips in answer, feeling him thick and hard at my entrance.

“Noah,” I begged, gripping his shoulders.

He lifted his head slightly, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he rolled his hips, filling me inch by slow inch until I’d captured all of him, my body stretching with a slight burn that was more pleasure than pain.

“You okay?” he asked, a fine sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the soft light of the bedside lamp. Restraint was evident in every rigid muscle as he braced his weight on his elbows, watching me for any sign of discomfort.

“I’m perfect,” I assured him, stroking his shoulders and circling my hips as the burn turned to bliss.

“That’s exactly how you feel.” He withdrew slightly, then thrust home with a groan. “God, Georgia. I’m never going to get enough of you.”

“More.”

He obliged. My toes curled as I whimpered, and I lifted my knees to take him deeper.

Then words became obsolete as our bodies took over, speaking for us in every way we needed. He took me slow and hard, driving into me in a ceaseless, aching rhythm that had me straining and arching beneath him, my nails biting into his skin as I gave myself over to the mind-blowing sensations he evoked.


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