Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
“I must have been so out of it I didn’t hear you knock,” I said, dryly.
He came up behind me, and I caught the Listerine on his breath. I could tell he’d washed his face too. No surprise there. “If I knocked, you wouldn’t have opened it.”
I caught his gaze in the mirror. “I might’ve, after I had clothes on.”
He smirked, a lazy, dangerous curve of his mouth. “See? You wouldn’t have. You never make it easy. That’s what I like about you.”
I scoffed. “I don’t think I’ve made it all that hard for you.”
“Is that a joke? You’ve had me working for it for more than a decade.”
I gave him a side glance. “Okay, let’s not exaggerate.”
He gently tugged the brush from my hand. “Let me.”
Without waiting for permission, he started brushing, dragging the bristles through my hair with utmost concentration. I couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading across my face as I watched him.
“I fucking love when you smile like that.”
“All thanks to you. You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Ryder Voss.”
“Just you, Sass,” he replied with certainty. “Only you.”
My stomach did a flip.
God, it should’ve been criminal to feel this happy despite everything. Still, my heart swelled from how I loved him. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I hadn’t tried to cover up once.
“What are you thinking now?” Ryder asked.
“You mean you don’t know?” I teased.
“My mind reading powers may not be as good as yours,” he joked, brushing the ends of my hair with slow, methodical strokes, “but I know when my girl’s happy. When she’s sad. When she’s overthinking, which is—let’s be honest—ninety percent of the time.”
I smirked. “Just thinking.”
He laughed. “Obviously.”
“Maybe I’m thinking I like you domesticated.”
His eyes sparked in the mirror, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Domesticated, huh?” He leaned in, lips brushing just behind my ear. “Careful. You keep saying shit like that, and I might be tempted to start showing you my plans for our wedding venue, future home, and the headstone I already picked out.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. That was the thing about him, I would think something was a joke right up until I realized it wasn’t. “You’ve already picked out your headstone?”
His grin sharpened. “Our headstone. Since we’ll be going together. Can’t have your name next to anyone else’s.”
A laugh caught in my throat, spawned from half panic, half something dangerously close to swooning. “You’re insane.”
“I’m yours,” he said simply.
He set the brush down with care, then gathered my hair again, running his hand from crown to tip like he was memorizing the strands by touch.
“I love your hair,” he murmured. “Like woven silk.”
I blinked at him in the mirror, watching as he shifted it over one shoulder, exposing the slope of my neck.
“Know what else I love?” he asked, his eyes never leaving mine.
“What?” I whispered, heart already starting to throb.
“These eyes,” he murmured. “You’ve had me by the throat with them since we were kids. Still do.” He moved closer, and his fingers ghosted over my cheek. “These. The way they flush when you’re embarrassed… or turned on.”
He trailed lower, brushing his thumb along my lower lip. “Your mouth. Drives me fucking crazy.”
Lower, fingertips grazing the hollow of my throat as he traced the jagged half-heart charm that still rested there. “This gets an honorary mention.” His tone dipped darker, rougher. “You still wear it.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His hands continued their slow descent, brushing lightly over my chest until his palms curved fully around my breasts, thumbs teasing once over the peaks.
“These,” he murmured, giving them a slow, appreciative squeeze, “are perfection. Look how they fit in my hands. Like they were fucking made for me.” He lowered his mouth to my neck, dragging his lips across the skin before planting a kiss just beneath my ear. His hands slid lower, ghosting down my sides before flattening over my stomach. He held it gently, his thumb sweeping across the center. “This is where our babies will grow someday. Right here.” His palm lingered, protective and possessive all at once.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Then his hands reached my waist. “These hips,” he said quietly, “I’ve imagined holding onto them more times than I’ll ever admit.”
His breath brushed the back of my neck. “When you ride me, when I bend you over, and when you sit on my face, these are what I get to hold onto.”
Lower still, he ran both palms over my ass, squeezing once, hard enough to make me gasp. “This,” he growled, “has been mine since before you even knew what I wanted it for.” He slid one hand down the outside of my thigh, coaxing it gently open. Then the other, he guided my legs apart, pressing until I was bared to him completely.