Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
But I’m going to hurt him if I don’t.
Even with my blurry vision, I can see the Rowleigh blob getting closer and closer.
Shit. Wait. He’s getting closer because of me. It’s my feet that are moving. He’s standing still, shining like the gosh-darned sun himself, and I can’t stop. It’s gravity. It’s science. He’s a map, the road, and the destination.
Walking when you can’t see anything but blobby blobs is a hazard. I’ve learned that the saying, watch where you’re going, should be taken seriously. All of a sudden, my shoe catches on something hard, and I pitch forward. I whisper scream, but before it has time to escalate, strong arms close around me. One of my palms lands on a muscled shoulder, and the other plants against a slightly damp, solid wall that feels like it could be a pec.
“Ahh.” The scream unspools into nothing as his hands fall to my waist, setting me back on my feet and supporting me to make sure I stay there. “I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.”
I can’t see his face properly. At this point, I should probably start rubbing my eyes again to try and coax my contacts forth. They’re gone. They have to be, or they would have crept their way back by now. They’re designed like that. That’s real science.
His hands are still on my waist, and I tilt my face up. “I…you…this is…terrifying.”
He just gives a blurry nod and mumbles, “Yeah.”
“The wrongness of this is terrifying because it doesn’t feel so wrong. Well, it is, and the world would certainly say it is. We’d be labeled kinky and perverts and clichés, but I’ve been garbage at best when it comes to caring about what people say. I want to do less of that.” And more of you. I very much want to do more of you.
I angle into him, finding his chin with a questing hand, and then I close my eyes and roll them in their sockets. I know it’s weird, but I hope it’s also effective.
I stop thinking about that when his hand mirrors mine, tilting my face up. He steps closer, angling his body against mine. We’re not pressed together. It’s only our hands that are touching, but it’s enough to wash away the world and everything in it.
I want him.
I want this man who is a sweetheart and has a sweet heart. I want his body. I want his laughter. I want his smiles, his kisses, his self-discovery, his running through the rain, his hating on tacos, and his rapture when I play for him. I want the very few things I know and all the things I have yet to discover. A whole lot of things.
I want his body too. His hands. His mouth.
“I need to tell you something,” I rasp right as he angles closer and brushes his lips over mine.
Hesitant. Tentative. An invitation.
I lose my mind, curl my hands around his broad shoulders, tracing them up to a neck more muscular than any neck has a right to be, and slam myself up against him with enough force to wind myself. I accept his invitation with all of me and one-up him with an invitation right back in the form of my hips bumping against his groin.
He’s instantly hard, his erection jammed up against his jeans and my stomach. It’s a beast, but right now, my lady bits are in full-on werewolf mode themselves.
Rowleigh doesn’t kiss me like a beast. He kisses me perfectly and slowly, taking his time and savoring my mouth like I’m a fine, rare delicacy. I appreciate his care and attention. It’s hot as heck. But I want to devour him the way I would have devoured those life-changing tacos. And I’d like him to change his stance on tacos so he can devour mine.
Now I get why he’s going slow.
I get why he’s threading his fingers through my hair and tipping my head back and why he makes those little husky groans of pleasure as he strokes my lips with his tongue before delving deeper. But he never loses himself.
He’s in control because he remembers where we are.
We’re in a barn.
In someone else’s barn.
It hasn’t always been my dream to get ravished up against a crowded, dirty barn wall, but as of the last five minutes, it has been elevated to bucket list territory.
I don’t really care where we are. My nerves are on fire. My nipples are nippling, and my pussy is…aching. I want this man. I need this man. More than just lust, I like him. His care and kindness have been a sucker punch to my heart right from the start. It shouldn’t be so easy to be me with him, but it is. Maybe it’s that way because the only other person on earth that I can truly be myself with is Mika. And Rowleigh is a part of Mika. She’s a part of him.