Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
But now he’s here, pulling at me like gravity. A needy exhale slips from my lips, and his attention snags there before lowering to the curve of my throat. Immediately, the air shifts, becomes thick with the type of electrical charge that precedes a lightning strike.
His eyes return to mine.
I forget how to inhale.
He forgets to exhale.
“Sebastian—”
And just like that, his mouth crushes mine. Whatever I might have said melts into a moan as our tongues slide together, slick and desperate. Gripping me by the nape, he deepens the kiss, mastering the angle and depth, locking me in for what feels like an eternity before we come up for air.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers, breaths ragged against my lips.
“I more than missed you.” I trail a finger along his scruffy jawline. “Part of me died with you.”
“I’m sorry I put you through that. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to make up for it anyway.” His thumb skims the blanket’s edge, tracing the swell of my breast down to my navel. He parts the fabric, and it slips from my shoulders to the bed.
With an inviting arch of my spine, I lean back and plant my hands on the mattress. In the chilly room, my nipples tighten into hard buds, a visual temptation that calls to his mouth and fingers.
“Baby,” he groans, taking both peaks between his fingers. Pressure builds, ripping a breathless cry from me.
I part my legs, nerve endings lit, blood rushing hot, and the pinch increases to the edge of pleasure, threatening to tip into the sweetest kind of pain.
“God, princess…” His mouth drifts down my throat, the scruff on his jaw scraping over flushed skin. “I live for the taste of you.” As he sucks my nipple between his teeth, biting hard enough to make my pussy clench, a whimper escapes me.
He lets out a low groan that thrums against my ribcage, and molten electricity jolts down my spine, heightening the sensation tenfold.
But it’s still not enough.
“I need more.” With a gasp, I push his hand between my legs.
And like a slingshot released, he wrenches away.
“We can’t do this,” he chokes out. “We have to stop.”
“No.” I catch him by the collar. “We have the whole night.”
“Time isn’t the problem. I don’t think I can control myself.”
“Then don’t. If I have to go back to that place without you, I don’t want to wait until our wedding night.”
“That’s crazy talk.” He shakes his head. “If you don’t bleed—”
“Blood can be faked.” I press a palm to his cheek, gripped by the fear that we might never get this chance again. “Our first time should be ours alone.”
Holding himself rigid, he hovers inches away, indecision carving into his features.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I challenge, reaching for the front of his pants and stroking him through the snug fit of fine wool.
A ragged sound tears from his throat. “You know I do.”
“Then don’t make me beg. Take what’s yours.”
I hold my breath and wait.
I’ve been waiting all my life for this moment.
Sebastian surges to his feet and steps back, his expression a wall of stone, and I know he’s going to say it’s a reckless and insane idea.
My heart plummets, taking hope with it.
Until he sheds his jacket.
My eyes widen as he turns down the bed, every gesture carrying a ceremonial weight.
“If we do this,” he says, voice thick, “we can’t leave any blood behind.”
He arranges the pillows, smooths the sheets, then spreads his jacket across the center—a dark shield against the purest of white.
Facing me again, he jerks his bow tie loose before working the buttons, collar to navel, slipping them free, one by one. As he peels the shirt from his body, soft light bathes his skin, highlighting coiled muscles and a fresh scar slashing across his ribcage.
I run my fingers over the mottled skin. “What happened?”
“Got it after we bailed from the plane.”
“How?”
“Got thrown against the rocks when we washed ashore.”
My hand lowers to his belt buckle, even as my head’s conjuring images of the rough sea tossing him around. I hate that he had to go through that. “How bad was it?”
“Princess…you’re making it hard to think, let alone speak.”
“You don’t have to do either.” I shove his pants down, and as his cock springs free, I’m already hollowing out my mouth.
“Baby, wait—”
My tongue kills his protest, just like I meant for it to. Taking my time on the head, I gently suck, little more than a tease as I scrape my scarlet nails along the smooth ridges of his shaft.
He hisses in a breath, then lets it out in a curse.
Salt and need flood my senses. I drag my tongue over him one more time before inching down, my lips stretching to take in his girth.