Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Kinda, but now isn’t a good time to talk about it.”
“Kinda? That’s not an answer. If it doesn’t have to do with the ceremony only, then why wait?” She pauses for a moment, staring into my eyes. Then her lips tug up at the sides. “Don’t tell me you’re hoping that I fall in love with you?”
The challenge in her voice makes something dark coil in my gut. I know what she’s doing—pushing me, testing my boundaries, and trying to provoke me into doing something I’ll regret, that she’ll regret. Giving her a real reason to hate me.
“Don’t push me, Saint. I can do plenty without touching you with my cock.”
“Prove it,” she snarls.
“No. You’re vulnerable, and drunk.”
“Ooo, did the morally gray cowboy grow a conscience?”
“All you’re doing is trying to start a fight.”
“No. I’m asking for answers. So tell me, why wait?”
I sigh, knowing that I won’t win this battle with her. “Because I want it to be your choice, for it to happen when you are ready.”
“That sucks, because I’m never going to be ready.” Defiance bleeds into her voice. “I’m never going to want you.”
Well, we both know that’s a fucking lie.
“Go ahead. Lie to yourself.” I catch her chin between my fingers, giving her nowhere else to look. “But don’t lie to me, Saint. I know the truth, even if you don’t want to say it. I can see it. Feel it.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are, and the truth is eating away at you. It doesn’t matter how much you fight it.”
“I don’t want you,” she claims, even as her pulse hammers in her throat and her breaths grow more rapid.
“Then tell me to stop.” I lean in, so close that our lips are almost touching. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
We’re playing a dangerous game here, and I’m not sure who is going to win. I know better, know I shouldn’t be pushing her, but I also know that nothing good comes from coddling. Saint’s desperate for control, to feel anything that isn’t fear or helplessness. I can give that to her. I can make her forget, even if it’s temporarily.
The dam inside her breaks, and she reaches for me, her hands fisting in my shirt. “This doesn’t change anything.”
Oh, sweet girl, still lying to yourself.
“No, you’re right. It changes everything.” I slam my mouth against hers, sealing her lips closed before she can respond. I don’t want to hear about all the ways this is wrong. I want to make her feel it, want to prove to her that she does desire me just as much as I want her.
Saint’s body melts against mine, and she kisses me back with a desperate fury that tastes like rage and whiskey. This kiss is raw and messy, but real. So fucking real.
Her movements are uncoordinated at first, but it doesn’t take long for her to figure out what she’s doing. She bites my lower lip hard enough to sting.
Fuck. That only makes me ache more for her. I growl against her mouth, and she does it again. It’s like she’s trying to hurt me. Trying to make me feel even a fraction of the pain she’s drowning in.
Fine. If she wants to fight, if she wants me to feel her pain, then I will. I’ll drown in it for her. Breaking the kiss, I blaze a trail of fire from down her throat, dragging my teeth over her thundering pulse. A tiny gasp escapes her lips, and she digs her fingers into my shoulders.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” she pants.
“I know.” I bite gently where her neck meets her shoulder, loving the way her body reacts to me. She’s such a fucking liar. A beautiful, rage-filled, sexy liar.
“We shouldn’t—” She starts to say, but stops, tipping her head back to give me better access to her throat.
“Is that what you want? For me to stop?” I ask, lifting away from her body.
“No!” she growls and pulls at my shirt with increasing urgency until I help her get it off.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Shut up! Kiss me. Do something else with your mouth besides talk.”
I choke on a bubble of laughter. “Oh, I plan on doing all kinds of things to you. With my lips, tongue, fingers, and cock. I’m going to mark you and claim every inch of you.”
“Saying and doing are two different things,” she fires back, as her palms splay across my muscled chest, her fingers tracing scars she can’t quite see fully in the dim lighting. Another man might be insecure about their scars, but I’m not. How could I be when her touch feels this good?
“I can’t be the only one getting naked here,” I whisper against her lips.
She freezes, and right when I think maybe this is when she decides to stop, she reaches for the hem of her sweater and rips it off over her head in one quick motion, then tosses it to the floor. My heartbeat spikes when I get a good look at her. It’s not like she’s wearing anything fancy. Just a simple cotton bra, but it’s not about the clothing. It’s about her. Her delicate pink nipples poking through the sheer fabric are enough to kill a man. If I don’t get to taste her soon, I’m going to explode. I reach behind her and unhook the bra.