Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Kassie,” was all he said. But the one word spoke volumes.
He began to move. Slow, languid thrusts of his hips. Deep, unhurried, our gazes never wavering. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he bit his lip, looking sexy and tormented. I pulled his face to mine, kissing him, stroking his arms, carefully wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. He groaned, moving faster, but still gentle.
“Let go,” I whispered in his ear. “Take me.”
“Not hurting you,” he replied.
“You won’t. I’m okay.”
He slid his hand under my ass, lifting me and sitting up. The new angle was intense and perfect. I started shaking, whimpering his name as he drove himself deeper inside me, keeping all his weight off me as he chased his release.
He was a vision as he climaxed. The cords of his neck stood out. He gripped my hips, his body locking down, his voice guttural as he shouted my name. I clenched around him, his orgasm setting off mine, the pleasure soaking into me like liquid heat.
He stopped moving, opening his eyes, meeting mine. His expression was warm, gentle. Sated.
He slid from me, lying beside me and wrapping me in his arms. “Are you okay?”
I nuzzled into his chest. “Never better.”
“That was incredible,” he murmured, dropping kisses to my face.
“It was. Especially…” I let my voice trail off. “It was.”
“Especially what?” he asked.
“Well, I was a bit rusty.”
He chuckled. “Despite what you read in the papers, I don’t have a string of women making their way through my bed. It’s been well over a year for me.”
“Oh.”
He bent his arm, propping his head up on his palm. “How long for you, if I can ask?”
I cleared my throat. “A little longer than that.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “How much longer?”
I swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. “Twelve years.”
16
OLIVER
The meaning of her statement sank in, and I sat up, gaping at her.
“Twelve years?”
“Yes.”
“You mean as in a serious relationship, right?”
She couldn’t possibly be serious. I thought going bare with someone for the first time in twelve years was immense. This blew those thoughts out of the water.
She pulled herself into a sitting position. “No, I mean the last time I had sex with a partner was twelve years ago.” She crossed her arms, looking annoyed. “If I have to spell it out—you, Oliver. You are the first and only man I have ever had sex with.”
I stared at her, shocked. “How-how is that possible?” I sputtered. “You’re beautiful. Sexy. Funny.” I frowned. “Is it because of me?”
She tilted her head to the side, studying me. “I haven’t been carrying a torch for you all these years, if that’s what you’re asking,” she stated dryly. “I wasn’t pining away for you.”
I wasn’t sure how to handle her confession. I decided to go for light. “Was I just that good? It put you off all other men?”
She laughed at my words. “Yes. You peaked at eighteen. I have to confess, tonight was a letdown after experiencing you as a teenager.”
I had to laugh with her. We’d done a lot of learning together. Fun, messy, sometimes awkward learning. But it was always good as long as it was with Kassie.
“Explain this to me.”
She sighed, pushing her hair off her face. I tried not to notice the little mark by her ear where I’d nipped her. It was rather sexy, but I didn’t tell her. I wasn’t sure she’d agree.
“After you left, I was messed up for a while, and I did pine for you. I didn’t want to date anyone else. But I grew up and I started over. I dated a few nice local guys—”
I cut her off. “Anyone I know?”
She shrugged. “Jeremy Briggs. Ken Walden.”
I grimaced. “Both assholes in school.”
She fixed me with a look that shut me up. “Both matured. And here.”
“Right. Point taken.”
“But I wasn’t interested in them enough to have sex, frankly. It felt too personal, too intimate. And I knew they weren’t forever.”
“And no one since?” I was still in shock. She was too special to have been alone all this time.
“There was one man when I moved to Toronto. We met at the art gallery at an exhibit.” She smiled. “I had saved for weeks to buy a ticket.”
“I didn’t know you liked art.”
“I grew to appreciate it. It was a collection of Monet, who is an artist I love.”
“Ah.”
“We met and chatted. Had coffee after. That led to dinner.”
I shifted, not sure I wanted to hear about her falling in love.
“And you…?” I trailed off suggestively.
“Nothing. We dated. I liked Warren. He more than liked me. We saw each other when I could with the course load I was carrying and my part-time job. He never pushed, never forced me to be more or give more than I could.”
“Sounds like a decent guy.”