Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
It was a flat, two-dimensional thing. Now it’s evolved, and sure, it’s chaste enough, making origami. But as I slide my thumb over the space between her thumb and her forefinger, this craft is not so chaste anymore.
Not when a gust of breath crosses her pretty lips.
Not when her chest flushes.
Not when a tremble runs down her body.
And not when my body is made of lava, and it’s melting my will right into the ocean.
“Like that?” she asks, her voice feathery.
I coast my thumb along her finger, slow and sensual, taking my time, then spreading my right hand over hers. All my fingers cover hers, then curl over them.
“Just like that,” I say as our gazes lock.
The air between us crackles. An electric charge sparks and sizzles. Her dog must sense it, too, since he jumps off the bed, settling in on the floor.
What a wingman.
“What do I do next?” she asks, and we’re not looking at the paper in our hands.
I don’t say a word for several, weighty seconds. I just flip through possibilities. Choices. Consequences. Then, fuck origami. “You take the paper, toss it, and tell me to pin you to the bed and kiss you like it’s all I’ve thought about all day long, every single goddamn second.”
She crumples it into a ball and tosses it over her shoulder. “Take me.”
28
A LOVE BITE
RIPLEY
Banks pins me down in a flash, my arms above my head, my wrists in his hands, his body covering mine. There’s a duvet between us, but I can feel him, thick, hard, insistent between my thighs.
His chest, strong and sturdy against me.
His stubble, scratchy and just the right amount of whiskery, against my face as he seals his mouth to mine in the world’s most necessary kiss.
It hardly feels like it was only yesterday afternoon when we kissed feverishly on the side of the road. That seems like ages ago. Like it’s taken Herculean strength to get through the last day and a half since we touched.
His teeth are hard against my lips. His hands wind around my wrists. His hips roll into mine.
And I melt into the kiss. I melt into the bed. Into the moment where I’m trapped under him. I’m arching my hips, frantically seeking friction, seeking heat. With each dizzying kiss, I grow hotter, needier.
His hands grip tighter as his kisses turn more passionate. I drown in them willingly as his mouth explores mine, and my body begs for him.
Getting closer to him is a terrible risk. Touching like this is a bad idea. It will only cause problems during the movie shoot. Yet this insistent ache thrumming in my bones has grabbed hold of all my senses. It’s owning my body and my voice.
When he breaks the kiss and catches his breath, I say the only words I can manage. “I want you. Please.”
His eyes squeeze shut. His jaw clenches. He’s still for a few dangerously long seconds, like this is the tipping point. But when he opens those deep, dark eyes, he’s clearly lost too—to this feeling.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He lets go of one of my wrists and grabs my chin, making sure I’m looking at him. As if I could look away. “I can’t stop wanting you. Tell me you feel the same.”
It’s a demand, but it’s more like a desperate plea. “Same,” I say, reaching for him with my body.
He lets go of my other wrist, moves like a cheetah off me, and yanks the covers off too. Then he climbs back over me, our hips flush. This time I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him close.
He finds the pulse at the base of my throat and kisses me there. I arch, moaning as wicked sensations radiate through me from my core all the way to my toes.
His mouth skims over my neck, then he moves down my chest, kissing me here, there, everywhere—my shoulders, the tops of my breasts, my arms.
He tugs at my cami. “Need this off.”
In a flash it’s gone, and his mouth comes down on my right breast, his teeth grazing my nipple.
“God,” I gasp, my fingers lacing through his thick, messy hair. I want to hold on to this hair. Grab it hard as he goes down on me. I want to rake my fingers through it as he fucks me. But I want something else first.
As the idea takes shape in my head, Banks travels down my body till his mouth is on my stomach and he’s lighting me up with hungry, needy kisses. “Need to taste you before I fuck you.”
That sounds amazing. Truly, it does. But first, I push up to my elbows, breathing hard, frantically. “There’s something I want.”
He stops, his eyes blazing with heat. “What is it, Ripley?”
My gaze strays to his hands. “You’re good with your hands,” I begin, then swallow, my desire spreading like liquid inside me.