Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Need rolls off him in heavy, suffocating waves.
It’s almost shocking just how much I want this.
Not just the physical part, but the way he looks at me like I’m something he never thought he could have.
Something worth waiting for.
It doesn’t take long before the cotton beneath my hand dampens with moisture. A low groan rumbles from him, and I swear it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. His restraint, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands stay clenched at his sides, it all makes my pulse skitter. He’s allowing me to set the pace and giving me the space to choose. And that choice is its own kind of power.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “How long has it been for you?”
Almost immediately, I regret the question.
If he says something careless, something that breaks the fragile connection forming between us, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from pulling back and rebuilding every wall I’ve allowed him to pull down.
I brace for his answer.
He doesn’t look away or even blink. “Three years.”
My eyebrows pull together. “Seriously?”
He nods.
I search his face for a tell, any hint he’s lying. “I don’t believe you.”
One side of his mouth lifts into something that’s not quite a smile. “It’s true. I got tired of hookups that didn’t mean anything.” His voice dips, turning rough around the edges. “Plus, it didn’t help that the woman I wanted was with someone else.”
I don’t ask who he’s talking about because I already know.
That’s all it takes for the sexual tension between us to ratchet higher, the silence growing so heavy it presses in until the rest of the world slips away into nothingness.
There’s just River.
And me.
Along with the attraction that pulls us together with a force I don’t fully understand.
“No matter how many times I tried to pretend with other women,” he says quietly, “they just weren’t her. Not even close.”
My fingers still as the words hit hard.
They’re too much.
Too honest.
Too real.
And some stubborn instinct tells me to turn away, to shield myself before I get pulled in any deeper.
No matter how much I try to deny it, a piece of me still aches to believe him. To trust that this is different. That what’s happening between us isn’t another mistake I’ll regret down the road.
The hardest thing is how real it feels. Like a truth that burrows deep and settles into my bones.
Still, I know better than to fall for pretty promises that never come to fruition.
Instead of pulling away, I move slowly, watching the way his body reacts to my touch. The tension in his jaw. The way his chest rises faster, breath quickening, hips twitching beneath my hand, as if he’s fighting every instinct not to lose control.
His head falls back against the pillow as his eyes squeeze shut. “Callie…” My name comes out sounding more like a rough warning. “I won’t last long if you keep that up.”
There’s no way I can stop.
Not when I’m the one in control and making him come undone.
The significance of what’s about to happen pools low in my stomach. This isn’t just about giving back what he gave me last night. It’s about the knowledge that I can affect him so easily. That I can be the one to pull him apart when he’s always so composed. The realization is intoxicating. It makes me feel powerful, wanted, and achingly alive in a way I’ve never experienced.
His fist tightens in the sheets, knuckles turning bone-white, while his other hand wraps around my wrist. The hold isn’t rough or meant to stop me. It’s steady. Like he needs that point of contact to keep himself tethered to the earth.
“I mean it,” he grits out. “I’m gonna come. And that’s not something I was planning on.”
The warning sends my pulse racing as my thighs press together in sharp anticipation. My steady grip tightens around him. “Good. I want to watch you fall apart.”
The low sound he makes is like a groan of surrender, and it rips straight through me. His hips jerk once, twice, before finding a desperate rhythm, thrusting into my hand like he can’t help himself anymore. The muscles in his stomach flex under my gaze, each hard line shifting.
He’s completely at my mercy now.
Every rough, erratic thrust pushes him closer, the tension winding tight through his body until it finally snaps. With his head tipped back, a hoarse curse rips from his mouth as heat spills, hot and thick, into my palm, soaking through the thin cotton of his briefs.
Even when the waves of his release ebb, his chest continues to rise and fall in jagged pulls as sweat beads his temples. My fingers stay wrapped around him, easing the pressure as my strokes turn slow and coaxing. My thumb traces lazy, feather-light sweeps over the damp fabric, feeling every twitch and aftershock. His lashes flutter and his mouth relaxes as I continue touching him.