Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
It’s like all the anger, the pain, the whatever the heck he feels at our separation…it’s right there, so close I could touch it.
And then he moves closer, walking with slow footsteps. It’s like he’s giving himself a chance to turn back, but he can’t.
He stops inches from me. I can smell his musky scent, his manliness, him.
It’s as though his body is talking to me, the same way mine is, screaming out for his touch, screaming out to be close to him at all times.
“I wonder if we’ll be interrupted this time,” he says.
I laugh, though it feels forced, difficult somehow. I can’t shake the fact that Ben is standing right there, close enough for me to touch, ready to…to what? To kiss me, to do more?
My belly warbles at the thought of more. Then I remember Mom and Dad waiting downstairs.
“We haven’t got a lot of time,” I murmur.
He tilts his head, his smirk somehow wild. Or maybe it’s the look in his eyes, glinting like he’s ready to do something crazy.
“Time for what?”
“Time for…,” I swallow, licking my lips. “I don’t know, exactly. Mom and Dad are waiting for me downstairs, I mean.”
“Ah.”
He takes another step closer, making me crane my head to look at him.
“I’m just wondering,” he goes on, his chest heaving, his whole body seeming on the verge of an explosion. “Every time we’ve almost kissed, there’s been an interruption. It’s like the world’s trying to tell us how wrong this is.”
Another step, and now our bodies are almost touching.
He’s so close I can feel his heat, radiating as though from a volcano. Sweat coats his skin, a fine layer. He can’t contain the fire. He can’t stop.
Neither can I.
“Do you think it’s wrong?” I ask.
He laughs gruffly. “It’s not a question of think. A man shouldn’t go after his best friend’s sister. I know that. But just a kiss…fuck, Becca. I think I’ll die if I don’t at least kiss you.”
The passion grips me, making me feel giddy all of a sudden, sparkling through me with the force of destiny, with the knowledge that this is right, the only thing we could do.
Dimly, I see Alex's face from far back in my mind. I imagine him shaking his head, turning away from me. I imagine the way his voice will sound when shaping the word betrayed.
But then Ben’s hands are on my arms, squeezing powerfully. He leans down and brushes his lips against mine.
I gasp, then I can’t make any more noise.
All I can do is stand here, feeling his hands, his lips, him.
And wonder how the heck we’re ever going to stop.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben
This is wrong, this is wrong, a voice roars inside of me. Stop now. You can’t do this.
But the voice feels faraway, receding into the distance, barely even audible as I open my mouth and guide my tongue to Becca’s.
She gasps, the noise muffled, and then her tongue responds. It’s slow, shy, just like her, but then she starts to get into it.
I snarl and smooth my hands from her shoulders, down her back, toward the heaving beauty of her ass. Her moans become more urgent as I squeeze down, greedily caressing, driving forward with my hips so she can feel how wild she’s making me.
My cock is pulsing, my balls heavy, my seed rioting with the need to be inside her young body. Her ass is truly incredible, so plump, so curvy.
I could massage her round globes for hours and hours and never lose my hungry compulsion.
I snarl as her tongue begins to seek mine out, the tips flaring together, the tingling lust dancing between us.
My mind floods with all the other kisses we’ll share – after I propose, then at the altar, in the kitchen after a meal, an everyday household scene.
Life.
That’s when we’ll kiss, from now on. Any time we’re sharing a life together, which is going to be every second, every day.
My hand moves automatically to her hip and then around to her stomach, down toward her sex. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, nothing overtly sexy, but she could wear anything, and she’d still make me feral.
I tease at the edges of the denim, my fingers going to the button. I’m sure I can feel the heat of her young, excitable sex, as though she’s silently screaming at me to push down, to cup her soaked slit and rub until she’s shaking and begging for more.
But then she breaks the kiss, panting as she places her hand on my chest.
“Wait,” she whispers.
I stare down, my hand becoming still. But my heartbeat can’t. It shatters in my chest, over and over, a frenetic hammering that roars at me to keep going.
Then it hits me.
Where we are.
I didn’t even think of it before.
Taking a step back, I nod. “You’re right. We can’t do this here.”