Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I knew we didn’t have long before shit started happening. And I wanted shit to start happening. I wanted my sister back.
“I know we don’t have much time. But I needed this for myself.” I reached up and framed his face with my hands, leaning up to kiss him again. “I’m glad I got to spend that time with you.”
He stepped back and took a slow, measured look at my face. “C’mon,” he said, voice gone rough around the edges. “Shower. Nap. Knuckles will let us know when shit happens.”
I followed him to the small bathroom, not even pretending not to stare at the sweep of his back or the perfect curve of his ass as he peeled out of his jeans. I shed my clothes, tossing them in the corner. Griffin started the water and finished undressing.
The bathroom filled with steam that curled my hair and made the air turn syrup-thick. We both stepped into the shower, the fall of water gentle between us from a large shower head. I stood under the water, letting it wash the grime and blood and sweat off my skin, and it felt fucking holy. Griffin braced his arms on either side of me, backing me against the wall and caging me in. The water streamed over his face and chest and made every part of him gleam. I wasn’t sure I’d ever needed anything as bad as I needed that right then. And we’d just had sex.
He reached for the soap. “Gimme your hands.” I did, and he lathered them up, rubbing the soap between my fingers, over the healing cut and bruised knuckles. His ministrations felt almost ritualistic. Like something warriors did for each other after battle. He finished with my hands, then worked his way slowly up my arms, shoulders, neck. He took his time with my body, like he wanted to memorize every part of me. He even soaped behind my ears, then ran his hands through my hair and massaged my scalp, every touch deliberate. I melted with each pass.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Veda.”
Griffin urged me to turn, so I leaned back against him before closing my eyes. Griffin soaped my chest, my breasts, and the slope of my ribs where old bruises patchworked my skin. His hands were big and rough, but he handled me like I might break any second. The contrast made me ache with both need and affection. I arched up into his hands, letting myself want what I wanted, and the growl he gave made me flush even hotter.
He held me like that, my back against his chest, his cock stiffening again and pressing against the small of my back as his hands roamed my body, each movement slow, almost reverent. As if the rough, animal need we’d crashed through moments earlier had only been the first act. This was the second, and he intended to have it burn twice as hot.
He pressed a kiss to the curve of my shoulder, then another up the side of my neck, trailing steam-soaked heat across my skin. I let my head loll forward, trusting him to hold my weight as I sagged. For a second, I thought he might just keep washing me, content to let his hands tell me the things words would ruin. Then his hand dipped low, sliding across my belly and lower, fingers finding my clit and rolling it, gentle at first, then firmer, until I relaxed into his hold and whimpered with need.
“God, don’t stop.” I didn’t even care I begged him.
“I won’t,” he promised, nipping at my ear.
I turned in his arms, reaching between us to find his cock, and stroked it, twisting my wrist in a way that had him biting back a curse. I guided him between my legs without letting go of his cock.
He let me take over. My back pressed to the slick tile, one hand locked around his cock, the other curled behind his neck. I hooked one leg around his waist, opening myself up to him.
Griffin entered me slowly, like he had all the time in the world… Then slammed into me so hard my teeth clicked. I gasped, the sound echoing off the shower tile. The water made everything slick and hotter, drowning out every sense but touch. My world shrank to the burn between my thighs and the slow grind of his hips and the way his tongue never left mine.
He braced me with his hands gripping my ass and my back sliding up the tile with every movement. I held his gaze, refusing to look anywhere else, like if I let my eyes slip shut I’d lose my only anchor. He liked that. Griffin liked me looking at him, and I realized he needed it almost as much as I did.