Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Jan and I were going to get along perfectly well.
Kicking off the muddy Hunter boots, I made a beeline for his bedroom and barged in without knocking. It was empty save for the expensive designer furniture. The simple dark wood softened by natural materials in shades of gray and beige. An enormous bed dressed in imported Frette linens and a Scandia goose down comforter.
Let’s not forget the famous Hästens mattress I’d heard so much about––there it was, chuckling at my expense. All those cold nights hunkering next to the dogs for warmth. All those cold showers…
Ironically, it was the sound of a shower running that threw a monkey wrench in the wheels turning in my head. Crossing the room, I blasted the bathroom door wide open…aaand regretted it instantly.
On the opposite end of a very large bathroom with a heated stone floor (A heated floor!), Scott stood in the shower rinsing his shampooed head. Water sluiced over an intricate tapestry of muscle and bone. Not a spare inch of fat to be found on him anywhere. I’m ashamed to admit my attention went straight to the forbidden. His penis lay thick and long amongst neat dark hair until it started to harden under my seriously thorough examination.
“Had a good look?” he said with way too much sarcasm in his voice.
My gaze climbed until it reached his narrowed indigo eyes. His lips shaped into a smug little smile.
“If I was a dude, I’d knock your teeth out!”
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Without thought, I rushed him, got in his face. Oops, bad idea. I was forced to backpedal or risk getting plastered to his wet chest. Which wouldn’t have been such a terrible idea if I wasn’t so enraged.
Stepping forward, he invaded my personal space as he reached for a towel hanging on the hook, inches separating us. Eyelashes beaded with water, lips moist, gaze…full of trouble.
“If you were a dude, I’d be gay.” He smirked, his eyes glazing over with lust as he took in my flushed face and the nipples poking at my cable sweater. My arms automatically crossed.
“If you were gay, I might actually like you!”
“If I was gay, I wouldn’t be tempted to do this––” Dropping the towel, he took hold of my face, cradling it gently but firmly in his hands, and kissed me.
Kissed me like he was into me. Kissed me like I was his to kiss.
I was too shocked to do anything other than stand there and let him, my anger neutralized by ah, well, a litany of different emotions––none that I was very proud of.
Water-soaked, he pressed his body against mine, his hips pinning me against the edge of the counter, and I melted against him, let him tease my lips apart and slip his tongue into my mouth because everything about him felt so good I wanted to cry tears of joy. It was as good as I remembered. Better, actually. Resisting didn’t even cross my mind.
Unable to hold back any longer, my hands lifted slowly searching for a place to land. They slipped from the hot moist skin of his collarbone to the curve of his powerful shoulders, finally coming to rest on his biceps. Wedged between us, his erection, now at full throttle, pushed against the inside of my thigh. A hand dipped under the hem of my sweater. Broad fingertips skated over my hard nipples and I went up on my toes practically begging for more.
If I moved to the left just a little––
“This what you want?”
He rocked his hips against mine and I almost went into a full-body shudder then and there. In some distant part of my brain, I knew this shouldn’t be happening. That it was madness and I should be trying harder to dismember him and hide the body parts in the vegetable garden. I just couldn’t make myself do it when his lips were so soft, and his hands stroked my breasts so tenderly, and the thick, hard length of him pressed between my legs at the right angle. I couldn’t think of anything other than having him inside of me.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, sighing like I’d granted a starving man his favorite meal. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this…” He took hold of my butt cheeks and picked me up, placing me on the marble counter without once breaking the violent delight of his kiss. And once he sensed that I was all in and in no mood to stop him, the gloves came off.
He pressed right into my sweet spot––in case I’d misunderstood what he intended––and I completely forgot why I’d come over in the first place, not to mention all the reasons this was the worst idea ever.
“We shoulda been doing this from the start. That mattress was killing my back…” he groaned in my ear. Which was basically equivalent to a cold shower. I mean…wtf?