Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“You do.” My voice was firm. Final.
I paused, the moment suspended as I waited for her to make the choice. I told myself I wasn’t quite sure what the repercussions of it were, but that was a fucking lie. The truth was that I didn’t know how to face the reality that came with it. Yet I wanted—no, needed—to hear her call me by my first name.
Finally, she whispered, “Chance.”
It was barely a sound, but it struck me harder than a gunshot.
I pulled back an inch and rested my forehead against hers. My voice came out rough through the gravel in my chest. “You got no fucking idea what you do to me, Alanna.”
Then I kissed her again before she could answer, before I could remember why I shouldn’t.
Her shirt was already up to her ribs. I hooked my fingers under the fabric and dragged it higher. Her breath caught, soft and shaky, but she didn’t stop me. Instead, she raised her arms without a word, and the shirt landed somewhere behind me. Her bra was plain white cotton that she somehow made sexy as hell. I hated it for being in my way, so I slid my thumb under the strap. Then I yanked, hard enough for the band to snap down so one of her breasts spilled into my hand.
Light from the lamp glanced off her skin—pale, flushed, and so damn perfect. My chest tightened.
I knew I should stop. But I didn’t. Couldn’t.
My mouth found her throat, my teeth scraping over soft skin, following the beat of her pulse until she was shaking.
I pulled the other strap of her bra down, freeing both tits to the cool air. She sucked in a breath when my hand closed over her. My palm was rough over her soft skin as I slowly squeezed. My cock was harder than it had ever been, straining against my jeans, the zipper digging into the skin since I hadn’t bothered with underwear.
“Beautiful,” I muttered, not sure if I said the word out loud or just thought it. Her skin was warm under my palm, her nipple hardening against my thumb as I rolled it. She arched into me, her back bowing off the wall, and I took that as a dare.
I dropped my head, caught her breast in my mouth, and groaned. A slow lick, then a pull that made her whimper, and her heartbeat kicked under my tongue. Her skin tasted like salt and vanilla in the rain and something that belonged only to her. She shivered, her fingers digging into my shoulders, and whispered my name like she wasn’t supposed to.
My hand found her hip, fingers digging in, holding her steady when she started to tremble. Then I shifted my weight, wedging my thigh between her legs, and she ground against me—a small, helpless motion that punched the air from my lungs.
She let out a sweet little sigh, and my dick throbbed in response. Yeah, that sound right there—equal parts plea and surrender—was going to fucking haunt me.
I slid my palm down her side and over the curve of her hip, into the waistband of her jeans. The button popped easily, and I dragged the zipper low. With a deep groan, I dipped my hand beneath the edge of her lacy panties, my fingers finding heat and slickness.
“Fucking drenched,” I grunted. “That all for me, baby?”
She jerked her head up and down, then tipped it back against the wall as her hands clutched my biceps, her knuckles white.
I kissed her again as my fingers began to move. Slow, measured, and teasing. My thumb worked her with slow circles at first, then went deeper, rougher, pushing her higher with every pass. She bit her lip to hold in the sound of her pleasure, but I wasn’t having that.
“Let me hear you, Alanna,” I demanded. “That’s it, baby. Ride my hand. Just like that.”
She grabbed at my shoulders, then the wall, like she didn’t know where to hold on.
“Chance,” she cried out, drawing any remaining blood from my head and sending it straight to my cock. I kissed her again, swallowing her moans, grinding my hips against her thigh because I couldn’t not. Every time she broke against me, it felt like a hit of adrenaline straight to the chest.
Her body went tight, trembling under my hand. When I finally pulled back, my lips brushed her ear. “That’s it. Let go for me, beautiful.”
Her breath hitched once, twice, and then she shattered with a cry.
I didn’t stop. I kept my hand there, riding her through the aftershocks, drawing it out until she was boneless against me. My mouth was at her jaw, catching every sound she made like it was something sacred.
When it faded, she blinked up at me, her eyes glassy and dazed, looking at me like I’d stolen her gravity. Then she sagged against me, her face pressing to my shoulder and her breath ragged.