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)
I hesitate only for a second. “Yes.”
He sets the cigar in the ashtray. The shift in energy is palpable, like something electric has been switched on in the room.
“Are you taking birth control?”
I blink at the question. “Yes. The shot.”
He watches me closely. “Good. Then there’s no need for a condom. When I take you, I want you bare.”
The words loosen something inside me, but he’s not finished.
“I’m clean,” he adds. “I haven’t been with anyone in eighteen months.”
That casually thrown out comment knocks me off guard, and my brows draw together. “What? Why?”
His gaze burns into mine. There’s no smile or hesitation on his part.
Just the truth.
“Because there wasn’t anyone I wanted.”
My lips part. “But women throw themselves at you all the time.”
He shrugs. “Does it really matter if I’m not interested?”
There’s something in the way he says it that quiets every part of me.
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first.
Then, I ask the only question that truly matters. “But you want me?”
His gaze never leaves mine as he takes another puff of his cigar. The smoke slips from his lips like a secret. “More than you’ll ever know.”
The finality in his statement pins me in place.
“Are we in agreement then?”
My heart hammers. “Yes. And just so you know, I got tested after everything with Devon. I’m clean.”
His body relaxes slightly, but there’s nothing easy about the way he looks at me. Nothing subtle about the need in his eyes.
“Good. Now that it’s settled, I want you to take off your dress.”
Even though a shiver skitters through me, I don’t hesitate. My hands tremble as I reach behind me and find the zipper. The fabric slides down my body and falls to the floor with a whisper until I’m standing before him in nothing but my strapless bra.
“Take that off as well.”
I unclasp it slowly. The lace falls away before dropping to the floor and I’m totally bare. Every inch of my skin prickles under the weight of his stare. I fight every instinct to cover myself, my hands twitching at my sides.
Before I can act on the impulse, his voice cuts into my thoughts. “Don’t ever hide yourself from me. Understand?”
I nod as heat crawls down my neck.
When I take a step toward him, he raises a hand.
“Stay right there,” he says. “In the middle of the room.”
I freeze.
“The moon’s hitting you just right,” he murmurs, puffing on the cigar again. “Let me enjoy the sight.”
His gaze drags over me like a caress. It doesn’t feel like he’s just looking. It feels like he’s soaking me in.
I’ve never felt so exposed. So desired. So undeniably wanted.
The cherry of the cigar glows bright as he inhales again and then exhales. He continues watching me.
Studying me in silence.
The smoke floats between us, and the way he looks right now—relaxed, hungry, dangerous—does something wild to my insides.
“Do you have any idea,” he says quietly, “how long I’ve waited for this moment?”
I shake my head.
He lifts the cigar again. The motion is smooth and deliberate. He holds it between two fingers as his wrist rests casually on the arm of the couch.
“Since freshman year, Lilah.” There’s a pause. “That’s a long time to want someone.”
And just like that, I know this night will change everything between us.
It’s just as frightening as it is thrilling.
He leans back into the couch cushions and lifts his glass to his mouth again. It’s with practiced ease that he brings the cigar to his lips and takes a drag. The ember glows, and when he exhales, the smoke rolls from his mouth in a thick, languid cloud that fills the space between us.
“So, if you don’t mind,” he says, voice wrapped in velvet and fire, “I’m going to take my time with this.”
My skin prickles, heat rising in a slow, consuming wave. I’m standing in the middle of his living room, completely bare under the silver spill of moonlight. Every inch of me is exposed, trembling, strung tight with want. I shift on my feet and press my thighs together, desperate to stifle the throb between them.
His eyes flicker, sharp and observant.
Nothing escapes his notice.
His head tilts slightly, a wisp of smoke trailing lazily from his lips. “Is your pussy wet?”
The casual way he asks the question leaves me momentarily speechless.
Like he’s asking if I’d like a drink.
Or if I’ve seen the weather report.
But we’re not talking about either of those.
We’re talking about the slick heat between my thighs. The ache he’s coaxed into an inferno. And the fact that he hasn’t laid a single hand on me since we stepped out of the car.
Somehow, that cool and easy tone only makes it worse.
“Lilah,” he prompts, raising a brow and taking another puff of his cigar. “Answer me.”
“I… ah…” The words die on my tongue.