Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Just the beginning…
Chapter Thirty-Four
JULIET
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpfbKWoBpRw
-Listen to your heart-
I can feel heat flooding into my cheeks like a wildfire, and I can't contain it. It burns hot and spreads fast across my face as I stand under his intense scrutiny—those dark, piercing eyes make my hands tremble, and the air feels thick and heavy. It joins with the lingering aroma of seared meat and makes my teeth ache with longing.
His stare strips me bare without a word, tracing how my yellow top clings to my curves, exposing the soft swell of my breasts as they rise and fall with my quickened breaths. My nipples harden under his gaze, and he doesn’t miss it.
It's funny and mortifying: me, trying to play the poised wife, all composed and elegant, yet melting like a nervous schoolgirl. I try to recover myself by forcing out a laugh, but it’s shaky around the edges and breathy. Even so, I soldier on. Meeting his stare head-on, I refuse to let him know how rattled I am, even as my pulse thunders in my ears.
I allow Emma’s words to embolden me: Indulge. You want him, he wants you. Why not? It sparks a reckless fire in me. I rise up on the tips of my toes, and my lips crash into his. My kiss is deep and heartfelt. My mouth reveals the desperation that's been building all day. My hands fist in his shirt, knuckles whitening as I pull him closer, pouring everything into my lips. All of it: the confusion, the raw desire, the undercurrent of fear. I taste the wine on his tongue, rich and oaky, as our mouths move in a rhythm that's terrifyingly new and yet achingly familiar. Electric sparks make my fingers tingle as his breath hot and ragged mingles with mine.
His arms wrap around my waist with possessive strength, pulling me flush against the hard lines of his body. I feel the firm ridge of his arousal pressing into my belly, sending a jolt straight to my core. It's like a dam has broken inside me. I feel unleashed as the kiss deepens, his stubble grazing my chin in a rough caress that sends shivers like tiny pinpricks racing down my spine.
He unbuttons his shirt, fingers deft and urgent, each pop of a button revealing more of the solid planes of his chest—tanned, sculpted, the muscles rippling under my touch. I slide my hands inside, exploring the scorching heat of his skin, smooth with a light dusting of hair. My thumbs circle his nipples in slow, teasing spirals, feeling them pebble into tight buds. Leaning in, I suck on them gently, lips sealing with a soft, wet pull and tongue flicking lightly to savor the salty warmth—then harder, drawing them deeper with insistent suction that pulls a sharp gasp from him.
He moans low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine, resonating like a shared pulse deep in my bones. It makes my core clench with a fresh wave of ache, the wetness between my thighs grows, arousal slicking my folds hot and urgent.
God, this is madness. It’s as if I’ve unleashed something wild and uncontrollable. My heart pounds like a war drum with each beat echoing the frenzy between us. His hands tangle in my hair, fingers weaving through with a tug that pulls tendrils free from my messy bun. The elastic snaps loose, and my hair cascades down. The faint scent of my shampoo mixes with our heady, shared musk, filling the air like an intoxicating haze.
He takes me with him then, his grip firm and sure on my hand, fingers interlaced with mine. A fresh thrill runs up my arm as he leads me back to the conservatory. The transition from the kitchen's bright lights to the dimmer, more intimate space feels seamless, like stepping into another world.
The glass walls enclose us in a fragile bubble. The air is cool and scented with damp earth and blooming flowers. Moonlight streams down from above through the transparent ceiling. It bathes everything in a soft, silvery glow that turns the potted orchids and ferns into ethereal shadows. Their leaves whisper softly in the faint draft slipping through an open pane. It all just feels unreal, like a dream woven from starlight and forbidden desire. He pulls me onto the wicker couch, its cushions giving under our combined weight with a soft creak.
Like an eel, I slide out of his grasp, and get down on my knees between his spread legs. I reach for his belt. My hands are trembling with a mix of nerves and eagerness. I feel the smooth, warm leather that's absorbed the heat of his body all evening. The buckle clinks softly as I unfasten it. The zipper rasps down, a low, teasing sound that echoes in the quiet room. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him—impressively big, hard and straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, the outline promising so much. Hooking my fingers into the waistband, I pull them down, freeing him at last. I pause there in awe, taking in his size and majesty.