Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
His free hand found her breast and he palmed her roughly, squeezing, kneading, rolling her swollen nipple between his fingers with a pressure that made her vision blur. There was no gentleness in his touch now and she relished the rawness of his reckless love.
She wanted exactly this, the full, unleashed weight of his desire bearing down on her without apology.
He broke the kiss to bury his face against her throat, his breath scalding her skin as his hips snapped forward in hard, demanding strokes that filled the room with the wet, rhythmic percussion of their joining. Each thrust drove deeper than the last, stretching her, claiming her, reminding every tender inch of her body that she belonged to him.
She gave herself over to him like an offering, wanted to be his answered prayer, and she loved that—once he dropped his guard—he denied himself nothing.
His pace turned savage. The controlled rhythm shattered into something primal and graceless, his hips pistoning with a ferocity that drove her up the mattress until her fingers clawed at the headboard for purchase.
Sweat slicked the hollows of his collarbones, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched so tight the tendons in his neck stood out like cables. Every muscle in his body coiled and flexed beneath the scarred landscape of his skin as he drove into her with the single-minded desperation of a man trying to fuse his soul to hers.
Her orgasm ambushed her. It crested without warning, a detonation that radiated from her core to the tips of her fingers, locking her thighs around his hips as her inner walls seized his cock in merciless, rippling contractions.
“Jack!” She screamed his name so loud it cracked in the middle, her back bowing off the bed, her fingers dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
A guttural, almost wounded sound tore from his chest as his hips stuttered and slammed forward one final time. He spilled into her in violent, pulsing waves, his whole body shuddering above her as though something structural had given way.
His arms buckled and his full weight collapsed onto her, his face buried in the curve of her neck as his breath punched out of him in ragged, broken gasps.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. His heartbeat slammed against her as a fine tremor ran through his arms. Skin damp. Muscles twitching. She shivered and groaned.
When he finally lifted his head, his expression was wrecked. She tried to look regretful but failed miserably.
She hitched her shoulders. “Sorry?”
He pulled out of her carefully, breath sawing in and out of his lungs. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, voice hoarse from panting.
Daisy laughed, the sound bright and unrepentant. Her body already hummed with the promise of soreness, but she could not summon a single ounce of regret.
“Jack, I’m fi—”
He moved before she could finish. One arm hooked beneath her knees, the other bracing her back, as he lifted her off the mattress in a fluid sweep.
“What are you doing?”
“Drawing you a bath.” He carried her through the bathroom door where steam still lingered from his shower, the marble tile warm beneath his bare feet. “Trust me, your muscles will appreciate it.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m perfectly fine.”
“Humor me.” He pressed his lips to her temple, and the tenderness of the gesture, so at odds with the man who had just driven into her with enough force to knock the headboard loose, dissolved her protest entirely.
He ran the water until the temperature satisfied his exacting standards, then lowered her into the deep porcelain tub. Daisy sighed as the heat enveloped her, sinking into muscles she hadn’t realized were clenched until they released.
He climbed in behind her, settling her back against his chest. His long legs bracketed hers.
They soaked for what felt like hours, the bathroom filling with jasmine-scented steam and the quiet murmur of conversation that wandered without destination. He washed her body with unhurried hands, lathering soap along her arms, her collarbones, the tender space between her legs.
Every time the water cooled, he reached for the tap and added more, adjusting the temperature with the same meticulous attention he applied to everything else.
Afterward, she dressed, unsure if he wanted her to stay or if she should find her purse and start making her way home.
She awkwardly stood at the vanity in her jeans and t-shirt, running a borrowed comb through damp hair, dragging out each tangle as much as she was dragging out the time. The shadows beneath her eyes had softened and that pinched tension she’d carried in her jaw for weeks had finally disappeared.
Jack appeared behind her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Dark jeans sat low on his hips, and a black dress shirt hung open at the collar, exposing the hollow of his throat and the first inches of scarred chest beneath. His grey eyes held hers as he stepped behind her, not stopping until his body touched hers.