Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
One of his hands slides up, slow and deliberate. His palm curves over my breast, the heat of it burning through the thin fabric of my dress. When his thumb brushes across my nipple, my body arches into the touch before I can stop it. His hand rises higher. Skimming the length of my neck before wrapping gently around the base of my throat.
The pressure is light yet possessive.
My knees nearly buckle. The frantic rhythm beneath my skin betrays just how undone I am.
And God help me, I love it.
I let out a whimper before I can stop it, and his fingers flex against me. He tips my chin back, guiding me until my head rests against his shoulder. And then his mouth is on mine.
Hot, insistent, and hungry.
He kisses me as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. Like he’s held himself back for years and I’ve finally given him permission to let go.
I feel every stroke of his tongue.
Every brush of his lips.
Every beat of his heart against my back.
No one’s ever kissed me like this.
When he finally eases back, his forehead presses to mine. We’re both unsteady and panting. His hand stays locked around me as I tremble against him.
Any lingering doubts have been shattered by the weight of what I feel right now.
Desire.
Need.
And something far deeper, far more terrifying.
Steele’s fingers slide beneath my chin again, tilting my face toward his.
“There won’t be regret,” he says, voice thick and raw. “Not from me. Not ever.”
And I believe him.
With every beat of my heart, I believe him.
I hope I never forget how this moment feels.
How he makes me feel.
Like I’m his.
Like I’ve always been his.
I just didn’t know it.
28
STEELE
By the time we step out of the restaurant, I’m barely hanging on by a thread.
The night air is cool and crisp against my skin, but it does nothing to dull the heat simmering just below the surface. Lilah’s hand rests lightly in mine, her touch grounding, even as everything inside me spirals.
The valet pulls up quickly, the engine of my Lamborghini purring. I slip a bill into the kid’s hand and then round the car to open the door for Lilah. She slides in with a quiet murmur of thanks, the black dress riding up her thighs as she settles into the passenger seat.
I circle the hood and slip behind the wheel, gripping the leather as the engine growls beneath us. The low, luxurious sound has nothing on the rush roaring through my veins.
Lilah shifts beside me, tugging at the hem of her dress, her perfume lingering in the cabin. As familiar as the subtle scent is, it’s no less potent. A mix of honey, vanilla, and something entirely her. It coils low in my gut, fraying every last thread of control with it.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and focus on the ribbon of road stretched out in front of me, silently counting the miles between us and home.
All I want is to get her there.
Alone.
She’s been driving me out of my mind all damn night. The way she sat next to me at dinner, smiling and laughing, completely unaware that with every glance, every brush of her fingers, every shift in her seat, I was unraveling.
The little black dress hugs her curves in ways I want to memorize with my hands and my mouth. Her legs are bare and crossed, her skin glowing in the reflection of the city lights. The gloss on her lips is still faintly smudged from when I kissed her on the rooftop.
I want to taste it again.
And then again.
She glances at me, and even in the dim cabin, I can see it.
Excitement.
Nerves.
And questions.
She said yes.
And now she’s wondering exactly what that means.
Only wanting to put her at ease, I reach across the center console and find her hand before threading our fingers together and bringing them to my lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. Her skin is smooth beneath my mouth, and I linger there, letting the moment settle between us like smoke.
She stills for a heartbeat.
When I glance over, her cheeks are flushed, her chest rising and falling just a little too fast.
Good.
I want her flustered.
Unsteady.
Undone.
Because that’s what she does to me just by existing.
I flick on the turn signal and merge onto the road that winds back toward my penthouse. The city blurs outside the windows with neon signs, headlights, and glittering high-rises. Inside the car, it’s quiet. Thick with anticipation.
Lilah shifts again.
She uncrosses and then recrosses her legs, thighs pressing together, as if she’s trying to stifle the ache building between them.
My lips lift into a knowing smirk.
She’s squirming.
And I fucking love it.
I want her need to rise like a tide until there’s no holding it back. Until the only thing she can think about is me. My hands. My mouth. The things I plan to do to her once we’re alone.