Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Then we’re a clenching, gasping mess, finishing together in rapture.
I’m not sure when I fall asleep after tumbling down in his arms. We both catch a nap before the plane lands in Calgary and it’s time to clean up and put ourselves back together.
Dexter picks up a rental car and drives us the last couple hours to Banff. We climb through the landscape until we reach the small town flanked by mountains and water so clear and peaceful it's breathtaking.
It’s colder here, but I don’t mind. Snow coats the landscape and clings to the hills like whipped cream.
“What’s the verdict? Honeymoon worthy?” he asks. The cabin we’ve picked out is right at the edge of the town, shielded from civilization by the soaring trees.
Then we turn the corner and it comes into view.
I gasp.
“Oh, wow. The pictures didn’t do it justice,” I say. Most of the photos were taken during fall and summer, where the sun and trees set off the little wooden structure nicely. Now, it’s a haven of winter solitude.
“Good thing we packed warm,” he says.
“It looks so cozy.”
Dexter parks out front and glances at me. “Happy honeymoon, Juniper Rory.”
Laughing, I twist the ring around my third finger, reminding myself that’s my name now.
“Happy honeymoon, Dex.” I lean over to kiss him. His lips are warm and eager. “Let’s get the hell inside. We’ve been on the road too long.”
“Yeah. A little late for our wedding night,” he says as we climb out of the car into the sudden chill. It bites my nose and flushes my cheeks. “How about a wedding morning?”
“If you mean ripping my clothes off, that depends if there’s a fireplace.” I grab my suitcase and haul it in.
Of course, there’s an awesome fireplace.
It has the biggest hearth I’ve ever seen and it starts pumping toasty heat the second it’s lit.
The interior looks earthy with splashes of red. The best fit for a Rory honeymoon.
Dexter lifts an eyebrow as he carries the last of our luggage into the bedroom, which has a monstrous bed that takes up half the room by itself.
“Does this suit you, duchess?”
I pretend to think, pressing a finger against my cheek as I look around. “Well, I suppose—”
He tackles me on the bed, pressing his cold nose against my neck until I squeal.
“That flight didn’t last nearly long enough,” he growls, his hips pushing mine into the bed. “Far too long to have to wait for my wife.”
“Say it again.” I bite my lip
“My wife.”
I slide my hands under his shirt.
No, I don’t care that we both probably need a shower and a long sleep after traveling.
He’s right here, all six foot something of him.
All mine, and that will always be enough.
“You can’t get rid of me now,” I say as I kiss him. “This is it. You’re trapped with me forever.”
“Who said I’m complaining?”
I kiss him harder, and he grinds against me, hinting what’s coming next.
Though the temptation is there to tear those clothes off, to feel his skin on mine, I force myself to slow down.
To work methodically, tracing every part of his body, running my nails over his tense muscles with slow, sensual pleas.
“Tease,” he grinds out.
“What’s the rush? We have all the time in the world.” I wrap my legs around his hips and push until he’s grinding against that sweet spot. The sudden rush of sensation makes me moan. “We don’t have to hurry…”
He nips my earlobe. “That doesn’t mean we have to go slow. Just means we can come up for air and fuck half the night.”
“Dex!”
He runs a hand under my top, across my stomach to the edge of my bra, then under it, palming my breast.
I arch my back into his hand and he laughs.
“Tell me you want to wait now,” he whispers, kissing down my neck. “Tell me and I will.”
It should be illegal for this man to make me feel this good.
I melt under his hands, his kisses, loose-limbed and eager for more.
As his mouth goes to work, he obliterates any rational thought.
“Go on,” he whispers, pulling on my nipple with his teeth.
The sensation arcs to the heat pooling in my core. I’m probably embarrassingly wet, but considering he feels almost painfully hard as he rubs against me, I don’t think it matters.
I grind my hips against him, groaning as I feel his hard-on. “Slow and steady wins the race.”
His other hand finds my other nipple, but instead of pulling on it like I want him to, he just trails his fingers around it.
My bra’s getting in the way—all our clothes, really—but to admit that would be admitting defeat.
He thrusts against me intently, and I tighten my legs around him.
God, if he keeps this up, I’m going to come before he even has me undressed.
“Junie,” he croons. “Think of the shit I could do to you without these pants.”