Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Someone likes it when I kiss her to shut her up,” he murmurs, lips brushing mine, his voice rough and low, vibrating through my chest.
“Be quiet,” I whisper, my fingers tightening in the soft cotton of his hoodie, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath it.
He smiles against my mouth, that infuriating, knowing grin, and the sound I make isn’t quite a laugh—it’s breathier, needier. His mouth trails down the edge of my jaw, slow enough to make me tremble and sure enough to make me question my sanity. When Grizz nips lightly at the spot beneath my ear, I arch toward him, flush against his fantastically muscled body, and I can feel every inch of how much he’s turned on right now.
I should stop this, but I don’t want to. He’s invoking feelings that are too delicious to pass up, and even though somewhere in the far recesses of my brain I know this is probably a bad idea, I can’t find the strength to care.
Grizz murmurs something I can’t process because his hand snakes up under the hem of my shirt, fingers splayed wide and warm against my chest. A thumb grazes my nipple, slow, maddening circles.
“Bedroom. Now.” Wait! Did I just say that out loud?
That seems to jolt Grizz as he lifts his head and peers down at me in question. His eyes darken, search mine to see if there’s some lie behind the demand. “Are you sure, Turner?”
He calls me by my last name, perhaps a reminder that there’s nothing personal or intimate in this situation. I reach down, drag my fingers over the thick ridge of his erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.
Grizz hisses and I chuckle. “I’m sure. What about you, McAvoy?”
He answers through action, nabbing my keys out of my hand. He turns and efficiently unlocks my door and pushes it open. He’s then lifting me in his arms once again like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist and his hands cup my ass to hold me tight to him. My pulse is everywhere—throat, wrists, chest, and lower, an insistent ache blooming between my thighs.
He growls—actually growls—and five strides later we’re crashing through my bedroom door. He drops me onto the mattress and follows me down, knees spreading my thighs wide. My skirt is rucked up around my waist, and okay… that’s convenient. Grizz drags my black lace panties down my legs and tosses them somewhere behind him. His body flattens to the mattress, large hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. Then his mouth is between my legs—no teasing or hesitation—just his tongue sliding through wet heat, circling my clit with devastating precision until my hips are bucking off the bed and I’m chanting his name like a prayer.
Grizz is relentless, holding my squirming body down, completely controlling the show. He works at me with almost a vengeance and I’m delirious with the need for… this. I’m driven higher and higher and when I come, it’s hard and fast. He chuckles with his mouth still against me as my fingers twist in his hair and my thighs clamp around his ears. He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking, until the aftershocks feel like they might actually kill me and I’m begging him to stop.
After a final, long lick that has my hips punching upward, Grizz crawls back up my body. His chin is slick and his eyes are dark, almost black. He kisses me hard, biting at my lower lip, and I taste myself on his tongue.
It’s filthy and perfect.
“You have too many clothes on,” I say breathlessly.
“Change that, then,” he challenges.
My hands are shaking as I shove his jeans and boxer-briefs down his hips, leaving it up to him to kick them free. Hesitation evaporates. So does any thought of right or wrong. I take his length in hand, give him a hard squeeze that has him cursing, hips flexing. I love the power of it, particularly with a man who is always exerting his control over me.
“Condom?” he growls.
“Nightstand.”
Grizz reaches for the nightstand and with a grace and efficiency that is a beauty to behold, he has one out of the wrapper and rolled on with his large hands.
He braces above me, one forearm beside my head, the other hand guiding himself to my wet, throbbing entrance. We both freeze for a single heartbeat, our eyes locked, and then he pushes in, stretching me open inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt and we’re both groaning at how impossibly good it feels.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he rasps, forehead pressed to mine.
I wrap my legs high around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. “Harder, McAvoy. Harder!”
He follows instructions. Long, deep strokes at first, then faster, harder, the headboard knocking against the wall in a rhythm that matches the slap of skin on skin. Every thrust nudges that spot inside me that blurs my vision. I rake my nails down his back and he hisses, hips snapping harder.