Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
She’s warm and tight, and she’s arching her back already. I ease out as a hot wave of pleasure shoots down my spine.
Her lips part as she looks up at me. “More,” she whispers, urging me on.
“Whatever you want,” I say, then sink back into her again.
She gasps, then grabs my neck, holding on tight.
I clench my jaw, narrowing all my focus to her, just her as I rock my hips. Finding a rhythm. Seeking the right pace for my woman.
Doesn’t take long to discover it since Remy’s roaming her hands into my hair, and whispering, “Faster, harder, yes.”
And I obey. I piston my hips, pumping faster, reading her cues.
Her hair’s fanned out on the pillow. Her breasts are heaving. Her arms are locked tight around me.
Funny, I didn’t expect her to be so…bold. There’s so much of her that seems to hold back. She measures her words, and makes sure everyone else is okay, including me.
Like when she wanted to suck me off.
But tonight, in the dark, in this small-town inn where it feels like we’re the only ones in the world, she’s giving in to her desire.
And somehow…that’s me.
With every moan, every cry, I move faster, I sink deeper, and I hold off. I don’t stray from the mission of her.
As her breaths come faster, turning more ragged, I ask, “What do you need, beautiful? Want to get you there.”
She grabs my right hand, and like she did in bed the other day, she shoves it between her thighs.
Well then. I can definitely do that. “It’d be easier like this.”
In seconds, I flip her over, and we readjust so she’s on top of me. “Ride that dick,” I tell her, as I slide my hand against her clit, my other one holding her hip.
Like that she rises up and down on my cock, as I stroke her lovely clit till she’s gasping, shuddering, then calling my name.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The woman I’ve wanted for the last year, falling to pieces on top of me.
And that’s all it takes.
I’m right there with her, my whole body one giant spark as my thoughts spin out of control and I finally let go, following her.
A few minutes later when I can think again—one stark realization is clear. Once with her won’t be enough.
34
WHEN SQUIRRELS FLY
REMY
I’m up well before Lake. Morning breath is my mortal enemy, and I will do anything to vanquish it. I’ve scrubbed my teeth and brushed my hair, taken a quick shower, and applied my makeup, all while replaying the way Lake took me apart last night.
I’ve watched that twenty times.
I’ve memorized it.
If I were on a flight, I’d sit back in my seat, close my eyes, and binge watch my new favorite show in my head—the Great Only One Bed Fucking at the Chestnut Inn.
For now though, my contacts are back in, and I’m setting my packing cubes back in my suitcase, ready to go. I don’t want to presume we’re staying together again. I mean, why would we be? It’s not like he’s going to crack me like a lobster every night. I have my own room tonight, and a busy day ahead.
I have a lunch meeting with the publicist for the minor league team that normally plays in the arena, then we have a promo event at the arena tonight before the game. Players from both teams will warm up with some young hockey players to raise awareness for Total Teamwork, a youth sports mental health organization.
Which reminds me—I really should replay that episode in my head again so I’m not doing it at lunch or later, at the warmups.
As I squat down to zip my suitcase though, I don’t replay last night. My mind annoyingly skips ahead to tonight. To after the game. My chest tightens slightly, like there’s a belt around it. My palms feel sweaty, so I rub them down my slacks. I check the time on my phone. I could go get breakfast. I could grab a coffee. I could plan the next date for my new client—
“Morning, beautiful.”
I jump.
Spin around, stand up. “Hi.”
It comes out high-pitched, but I don’t think Lake notices, since he’s stretching then threads a hand through his sex-rumpled hair. My attention snags on his biceps. They’re so biceps-y and big, and my mouth waters, and I think I love biceps, and the ink of the tiny running horses makes me want to lick it.
My gaze drifts down to the ladder of his abs and the bird there. Lake is covered in animals and the fact that he’s chosen to ink his body with creatures great and small is doing funny things to my heart.
Scary things. I jerk my gaze up to his face right as he pushes up on his elbows, the duvet snaking down to the V of his abs. “You leaving?”