Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
He breathes out a shallow laugh. “Are you sure? Because I haven’t done this in a long time, but I don’t remember conversations about comforters and lip balm as foreplay.”
“Then I guess you weren’t doing it right.” I smile into the warmth of his palm. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I haven’t been with anyone except Edward since college, and for the last two years our sex life was almost nonexistent.”
“You know I haven’t been with anyone other than Tremaine since college, and we’ve been divorced almost four years.”
He towers over me, strong and virile, and my curiosity overtakes my nervousness. “How did you do it? Abstain for four years?”
“I told you I’m not into casual sex. I know that’s unusual, but—”
“Do you masturbate a lot?” The words shoot out of my mouth like bullets from a misfiring rifle. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
I close my eyes, mortified, but let out a sigh of relief when I see him grinning.
“Well, do you?” I ask again, grinning back.
“When I need to. I run more, though lately…” He gives me an assessing look and then a what the hell shrug of his wide shoulders. “Since I met you, I would say the rate has probably tripled.”
“You mean running?” I tease.
One of his hands slides from my cheek to splay across my throat and tip my chin back until I meet the molten want in his otherwise inscrutable expression. “No, the other one.”
“I think about you when I touch myself,” I confess.
He goes impossibly still, like a statue burning from the ground up with all the heat gathering in his eyes.
“How long have you been doing that?” he asks, and the studied evenness of his tone is as telling as if he had roared the words.
I drop my head, and his fingers spear into the hair at my nape. “The first time was a few days after we met, after the Christmas party.” I bite my lip, blowing out a sharp exhalation. “I felt so guilty. I didn’t mean to. I had never thought of another man that way.”
“Tell me.” He leaves one hand at my throat and slides the other to my back, a caress in long strokes that burn through the material of my dress.
A harsh laugh grates my throat, and I swallow the hurt that’s not quite healed. “The night you and I met, Edward and I argued before coming to the party because we hadn’t had sex in two months. He knew how much I…”
I falter, unsure how this man, so disciplined and controlled, will respond to the truth about me.
“He knew how much you… what?” Judah asks, pushing the hair away from my throat and rolling his thumb over the sensitive skin there.
“He knows I have a high sex drive,” I say in a rush, not meeting his eyes.
His thumb at my throat pauses for a second but then resumes the caress that is sending sparks over my collarbones and across my chest. I watch as my nipples peak and pebble beneath the thin wool of my dress.
“Take off your clothes.”
His words, hard and flat, yet with a sudden urgency bubbling beneath them, stall me.
“What?” I blink up at him.
“Whatever this thing is you were telling me, this Edward thing, I don’t give a fuck.” He runs his hands over my stomach and over my hips, my ass. “Do you want me to do it? How do I get this off of you?”
“Um, there’s a zipper at the—”
Shock strangles the words as he turns me around abruptly and tugs the zipper at the top of my neck, dragging it down with swift decisiveness to the base of my spine. He peels the sleeves down over my shoulders until the bodice pools around my waist.
He shoves the dainty straps of my bra away with his lips. “God, your skin, Sol.”
He rakes my hair aside and blesses the back of my neck with open-mouthed kisses, hot and worshipful. He sucks the curve of my shoulder, unhooks the bra at my back. The lacy cups slump forward, falling to the floor and leaving my breasts bare in the cool air. They’re not uncovered for long because he reaches around, cupping them in his hands, rubbing and tugging the nipples with firm, sure fingers.
“Oh.” I go limp against him, the sensitive skin of my naked back prickling against the softness of his sweatshirt. “I had no idea how sensitive my breasts were until—”
“You said you’d never come from just that,” he whispers into the curve of my neck, never letting up on the peaks in his palms hardening, begging for his attention. For more. “Let’s find all the other ways we can make you come.”
His hands leave my breasts and I almost weep at the loss, but he doesn’t leave me. He pushes the dress over my hips, over my ass, and down my thighs.