Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“You talk too much when you’re nervous,” he murmurs.
I laugh softly and tip my head back to look at him. “You noticed.”
“I noticed,” he says, and kisses me again.
This time, there’s no interruption, and the moment for rationalization is lost forever. There’s feeling and intent as he guides me backward, the apartment dim and familiar around us. Clothing becomes secondary—shed in quiet, unhurried movements that feel reverent rather than frantic.
His mouth doesn’t leave mine as he walks me, steps confident, steering us like he already knows where this ends. I bump lightly into the wall, the contact enough to draw a quiet sound from my throat, and he takes advantage of it—deepening the kiss, angling his body closer until there’s no space left to pretend we’re still thinking clearly.
Hands are everywhere now. Hungry, his grip tightens at my hips, then he slides one hand up my spine in a slow sweep that pulls me flush against him. I feel his erection, thick and hot at my belly, and my knees weaken. The contact sends a quick pulse through me, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.
My hand drops, palms him through his jeans.
“Jesus,” he murmurs against my mouth, the word rough, almost surprised, like he didn’t expect it to feel this good.
I sense the shift in him then—the exact moment control gives way to need—and it sparks a feral burning low in my chest. “Kiss me again,” I say softly, not a request so much as an instinct.
His hands respond immediately, firmer now, one spanning my lower back as the other slides up to cradle my neck, tilting my head enough to deepen the kiss. He makes a quiet sound at that, barely restrained, and heat races through me.
“You feel…” He trails off, forehead brushing mine for a split second before his mouth finds my jaw. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I smile against his skin, emboldened by how his body presses into mine. “I think I do.”
A low chuckle vibrates through his chest, followed by an inhale when my hands slip beneath the fabric separating us. “Yeah,” he says, voice thick now. “You definitely do.”
Crosby sweeps me up in his arms, the movement sudden and effortless. My legs instinctively wrap around him as a quiet laugh escapes me—more breathless than amused. He carries me down the hall without a word, mouth returning to mine mid-step, the world blurring at the edges as urgency takes over.
By the time we reach the bedroom, whatever restraint we thought we had is gone. Heat rolls over my skin the moment his hands settle on me, steady and sure. I don’t hesitate to return the touch, fueled by the simple, undeniable need to feel him.
We end up in the middle of my bed, on our sides with legs tangled, facing each other. The decision feels reckless and exhilarating all at once—like stepping off a ledge knowing the fall will be worth it. My pulse skids, my nerves alive and buzzing, but beneath it all is certainty.
I want this.
His fingers slip between my thighs, slow and measured, the contrast between his touch and the soft press of his mouth at my neck sending a tremor through me. I draw in a breath that shudders on the way out, my head tipping back to give him better access.
He probes the slick heat, sliding a long finger inside me at the same time, tracing the knuckles of his other hand up my spine. The contrast has me groaning in the need of more.
I’m trembling now, the anticipation almost painful.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, withdrawing his finger and pressing it back in. “About you. About how this would feel.”
I moan, my hips thrusting against his hand in a shameless rhythm. He leans in, his mouth brushing over my shoulder, his tongue tracing a line that makes me tremble.
“I like seeing you like this,” he continues, voice rougher now. “I like knowing you’re giving this to me.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Crosby starts a steady circling of my clit, his mouth fused to mine. I thrash under him, needing the relief that’s just beyond reach. Higher and higher he drives me until that one perfect touch sends me to the stars. I cry out as pleasure explodes, my hands gripping his shoulders to steady myself.
The man chuckles, absolutely delighted in the response he pulled from me.
I’m near delirious, needing far more than what he has given me. “I need you inside me now.”
His laugh dies, his eyes going dark as he stares down at me.
“Now,” I repeat.
Mouth turning up at the corners, he grins. “As you wish.”
Crosby covers me with this body, hikes a leg up over his hip. His fingers go back between my legs, probing, spreading the slick, making sure I’m ready. He lines himself up, the first press slow and deliciously intentional. I tense at the initial stretch, breath catching as he pauses, giving me time to adjust, to breathe through it. He’s a big boy in all ways, and his hand tightens at my hip, reassuring.