Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
"M-maybe," I lie, licking my lips. I want him to kiss me again so damn bad.
He dips his head, his nose brushing mine. "Didn't sound like you were complaining last night, baby," he breathes. "It sounded like you were moaning my name while you had your hand in your panties."
"You heard me," I gasp, not really surprised. I knew he was out there!
"You aren't going to deny it?"
"No," I whisper, holding his gaze. What's the point of denying it when we both know what I was doing in my room last night? "Are you going to deny that you moaned mine when you got off?"
"Hell no," he rasps, planting his lips against the side of my throat. "I came all over myself, right there in the fucking hall."
I moan, my fingers twisted up in his shirt.
"I wanted to break down your door and make you do it again in front of me." His teeth scrape my skin. "Want to make you do it right here."
"You could take me inside and do it yourself," I whisper, feeling bold and brave and a million different kinds of reckless.
He goes rigid, not even seeming to breathe. And then he groans, his teeth sinking into my skin. "Don't say it if you don't mean it, Morgan. I'm a desperate man, willing to fucking die just for a taste of you."
Maybe I should take it back, play it safe, or run. My life is still a mess, with a big question mark hanging over my future. But the parts of it I do see? They're shaped a whole lot like this wild cowboy who looks at me like I'm the only thing he sees. And I'm smart enough to know that you hang on to things like that, even when they scare you—especially when they scare you. If you aren't a little afraid, you aren't alive.
I've spent too much of my life feeling like I was half alive, being invisible, alone, or overlooked. I've been the girl everyone looked at sideways for most of my life. I've been the one who felt like she never really fit. And I decided a long damn time ago that, if I ever found my person, the one who wants me exactly like I am, I'd be the girl brave enough to leap.
I owe it to myself to be her now.
This isn't a calculated risk or me giving him a chance to prove me wrong. This is me, giving him permission to steal my whole damn heart.
I lift up on my toes, my lips sliding along the stubble on his jaw until I reach the shell of his ear. "Take me inside and do it yourself, Blaze," I breathe in his ear.
Watching a cowboy lose control is a beautiful sight. This one snaps like a chain, his entire body rumbling with the force of his growl as he snatches me up in his arms fast enough to leave me breathless.
The world blurs around me as he takes the porch steps two at a time, the screen door banging against the wall before he kicks it shut with enough force to rattle the whole cabin.
I'm just weight in his arms, my breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to get to him.
He doesn't slow down in the hall. His boots are heavy on the wood floor, every step purposeful. Within seconds, we're in his room, and I'm falling.
The bed swallows me, the quilt soft and smelling like him—leather and hay and grass. I gasp, the air rushing back into my lungs just as his hands land on me, gripping the hem of my t-shirt. There's the brief, sharp sound of tearing fabric, and then cool air hits my stomach before the shirt is gone, tossed somewhere into the dim room.
I cry out, my back arching off the bed as he dips his head and sucks, his tongue a rough, perfect pressure against my nipple. One hand pins my hip to the bed, holding me still while he devours me.
All I can do is fist my hands in the bedding and moan his name, completely lost to the sensations raging through me.
He drags his mouth down my body, biting and kissing as he goes, his hands greedy and unhurried as he peels away every barrier I have left. My bra comes off first, the straps sliding from my shoulders like ribbon. He groans when he sees me, his eyes the darkest denim.
"Please," I whimper.
He doesn't even hesitate, just wraps his lips around my nipple until I'm writhing and begging, so overwhelmed by him that nothing else even exists.
Then he moves lower, yanking my jeans, panties and shoes off so I'm naked and trembling beneath him.
"Jesus, baby," he rasps, staring like he's trying to memorize my pale skin, my dimples and rolls, and the way my thighs shake when he looks at me like this—hungry, reverent, and wild.