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)
I tug at the hem of his sweater, needing him just as bare as I am.
Just as vulnerable.
“This needs to come off.”
He pulls back enough for his gaze to search mine. “You think so?”
I nod. “Yes.”
I want this man naked so I can see all of him.
Every gorgeous inch.
More than that, I want to feel his skin against mine. The weight of him. His undeniable strength. The warmth that is so much more than mere body heat. What I’ve already seen is more than enough to make me ache.
But now?
I want all of him.
Everything he’s willing to give.
“All right.” He lifts the sweater over his head with a smirk. “If you’re so eager to see the goods, then that’s exactly what I’m going to give you. What my baby wants, my baby gets.”
My lips curve despite the fire in my veins.
His attention stays locked on me as he tosses the wadded-up material to the floor. A few seconds later, his T-shirt follows, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the subtle flex of muscle, the ink that winds along his skin like a story etched in permanence.
My gaze drifts to the tattoo on his ribs, Willow’s name woven into the design. After meeting her today and watching the way she played with Nora and looked at her brother like he hung the moon in the sky, it hits harder than expected.
That kind of love and bond…
What kind of man tattoos his sister’s name on his body?
A good one.
A loyal one.
The kind who makes you feel safe without even trying.
There’s the clink of metal as he unfastens his belt.
My stomach flutters in anticipation.
Why is that so damn sexy?
He slides the leather from the loops, the motion unhurried, almost teasing. When he drops the belt to the floor, the sound feels heavier than it should.
Final.
There’s the quiet rasp of fabric as he pops the button on his jeans and lowers the zipper. My gaze drops, lips parting when I see how hard he is beneath his boxer briefs. His erection strains against the cotton, sparking a rush of heat under my skin.
The denim catches on his muscular thighs before he shoves it down and steps free. With nothing but confidence and quiet intensity, he peels off his socks and finally, the boxers. The last barrier between us falls away, leaving him completely bare.
Unapologetically exposed.
River Thompson is seriously gorgeous.
Hard and thick. Sculpted like a work of art. He’s power and grace in perfect harmony. And the way he stands still, letting me take him in, tells me this moment is as vulnerable for him as it is for me.
I don’t realize I’ve spoken the words out loud until he says, “No, baby. You are.”
His tone melts something deep inside me.
“You’re the gorgeous one,” he murmurs, climbing onto the mattress. The bed dips beneath his weight, and the second he reaches me, our gazes find each other and cling. There’s nothing playful about his expression.
It’s heated and raw.
“All the nights I spent dreaming about you didn’t do you justice,” he says, lips brushing over mine.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes your heart ache. Then he deepens the caress until it becomes slow and searching. Our tongues meet and tangle. I moan into his mouth as he devours me like a man starving and I’m the only thing that can satisfy his hunger.
When he finally pulls back, I’m trembling with the need to be claimed.
Even though he must sense my desperation, he doesn’t rush a single moment. His mouth drifts lower, kissing the underside of my jaw and then the delicate hollow of my throat. I don’t think about tipping my head back and baring my neck.
I just do it.
A silent offering.
He lingers there, bathing my pulse with open-mouthed kisses that make my skin prickle and my toes curl. His lips trail down to my collarbone as his hands glide over my body like he wants to take as much time as necessary to learn me.
When he palms my breasts, I arch into his hold, needing more. He cups me, his fingers teasing the sensitive peaks until they’re stiff and aching.
And when he finally takes me into his mouth, I feel everything.
Not just the arousal or heat, but the tenderness.
The worship.
I arch against him as he draws one tight bud into his mouth, sucking before pulling it deeper with a languid stroke of his tongue. Heat zips down my spine. My fingers slide into his hair, holding him in place.
A low groan breaks loose from him, and the sound vibrates against my skin before he releases me with a soft pop. His mouth trails to the other peak, and he lavishes it with just as much care. He licks and teases my body until I’m trembling beneath him.
And then he’s on the move and sliding lower.