Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
When he kissed her, she couldn’t think. Her brain just shut off. She hadn’t known it could be like that. In her wildest imagination, she hadn’t considered that the attraction between a man and a woman could be so fierce. They had so many things stacked against them, and now he had some deep, dark secret that Whitney, of all people, knew.
She had to respect the fact that Draden was determined to tell her before he touched her, because he believed whatever that secret was, it would change her mind about him. If he was a traitor, a spy for Whitney, that could change her mind, but she knew that wasn’t it. Draden’s loyalty was 100 percent to his team. The GhostWalkers were his family. She heard that in his voice every time he talked about them. That was impossible to fake.
Rain hit the roof harder, drumming so loudly it nearly drowned out the sound of the shower, or he’d turned it off. She remained staring out the window at the tops of the trees as they swayed back and forth in the wind. Dancing. It was beautiful. A little primitive. The air was hot and humid. Sultry. Her body seemed to have caught some of the intensity of the storm. She felt a little wild and out of sorts. Edgy. On the verge of something big.
She felt different when she was with Draden. She’d learned to live in the present a long time ago, to enjoy every moment she had. Time was a luxury, something she knew she could run out of very quickly, so she made sure each minute counted for something. She allowed herself to experience every emotion. When she was happy, she wanted to recognize that. When she was sad, she let herself be sorrowful. Now, she didn’t know what she was. It was impossible to recognize the feelings both emotionally and physically because she’d never had them. But she liked feeling the way she was.
She’d been around men, but no one had ever made her feel the way he did. When he looked at her, she grew hot. Needy. Hungry for him. Each time his fingers brushed her skin, her body reacted, every nerve ending on fire. And when he kissed her, the world fell away and there was only his taste and his heat. The flames pouring into her and down her throat, spreading like a wildfire. He was addicting without even trying.
Shylah loved to look at him. Just look at him. She could do that all day. He was the epitome of male perfection. Rugged, without being too contrived. Jaw-droppingly handsome without being so beautiful he bordered on feminine. When he smiled, he took her breath away, those strong white teeth showing the perfection of his smile.
She wanted his touch on her skin. His mouth on her breasts. She wanted him inside her, sharing her skin. Making them one. She didn’t believe that his friends could save them, and she wanted to know what it felt like to make love to someone who was her absolute match. Draden was hers. The one. The only. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did know that nothing in her life was truer.
Water slashed across the window and the wind hit the little cabin with a force that rocked it, drawing her attention back to the storm. The shower went off abruptly, but she didn’t turn around. She liked the storm and would have gone outside on the porch to witness its approach if she had more clothes. She was traveling light out of necessity. Whitney always arranged for weapons to be waiting at her destination, along with the necessary permits to carry them.
Sometimes she traveled under various identities, but she didn’t care what anyone called her, unless they addressed her as Shylah. That was real to her. Now, Draden had her rethinking her name, Peony. Who wanted to be named Peony? It was a ridiculous name, but Draden made it sound sexy. When he whispered that name in her mind so intimately, she melted inside.
What would be so wrong with having sex, Draden? She poured need into her mind. Hunger. The image of her kneeling at his feet, his cock in her mouth.
He groaned. She almost smirked at his reaction. He wasn’t nearly in as much control as he pretended to be.
Woman, you’re a handful.
She brought her hands up under her breasts, her fingers performing a small massage, thumbs sliding over the twin peaks. Just that light touch sent streaks of fire racing straight to her sex, lighting her up.
I think I’m more than a handful. Can you feel me? This is where your mouth should be. She was taunting him, trying to force his hand. She knew better. She knew she should hear what he had to say before she succumbed to other needs, before she made up her mind, but she didn’t want to chance missing out on him.