Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I shiver. “Nope,” I say. But I also didn’t expect this from him tonight—all the cat gifts, all the playfulness, all the Tyler-ness.
“And to answer your question, I had a couple drinks in Cozy Valley, but that was a few hours ago. So honestly, this is just me.” His voice dips slightly, a little vulnerable with that admission.
My resolve melts even more. Still, I tease him with, “Just you, Falcon?”
“I’m naturally affectionate. Accept it, Snow.”
And I do. Mostly. Sure, he’s affectionate on our sex dates. But tonight isn’t even on the calendar. Which I suppose brings me to my real question. “Tyler,” I whisper before he melts me with another kiss.
He looks up again, his gaze soft and earnest, like he knows what’s on my mind. “Yes, baby?”
The way he says that, with such tenderness and fierceness, makes my bones feel like they’re dissolving. It’s been a little over a week and a half since the Popsicle lesson. Still, my mind is tracking dates with him, like I used to track workouts and competition prep. It’s tracking spicy lessons and late-night plans. It’s trying to make sense of this…unconventional arrangement with my boss. “We made a game plan,” I say gently. “This isn’t in the calendar. Tonight isn’t on the schedule.”
“I know,” he says, his voice full of heat and desperation. “But I’m going out of town soon for a road trip. And I won’t be able to see you again for a while.”
“True,” I say.
“And it’s too hard to resist you,” he adds, then lavishes my neck with open-mouthed caresses, tender brushes of his lips that heat me up from the inside.
Maybe this was inevitable. This shoehorning in of extra days. But it also worries me. I don’t want to get too used to him. Or any of this. History tells me it’ll all fall apart and probably at the worst possible time. I can’t get accustomed to any of it, from the foster kitten practicing her climbing skills on the cat tower Tyler bought me to this man hanging out with me on a rare night when it’s only us in the home.
“But what happens if we start bending the rules now?” The protest dies on my tongue when he slides a hand down the side of my body and cups my breast through my shirt.
“Is this on your list?” He squeezes my nipple piercing. Pleasure shoots through me, making my toes curl, and I’ve forgotten everything else but this.
“Yes,” I gasp.
Nipple play is definitely on the list, but it’s mixed with a little something else too. Something I kind of want to do. Something I’ve never really gotten the hang of.
There’s only one issue. “It feels a little selfish though,” I admit.
“If it’s selfish, we’re doing it,” he says, his tone practically demanding we start right now.
I laugh. “Why?”
“Because if you think it’s selfish, I want it. Because it means I get to focus on you the whole fucking time.” Then he brings his face close to mine, drops a hot kiss to my lips before whispering, “Because I like you getting what you want.”
In that case…
“Turn to page twenty,” I tell him.
He rushes to my bedroom and returns seconds later with my tiny sex diary. His lips curve in a sexy grin, a little lopsided, a little hopeful. The look in his eyes is pure candy. This is his guilty pleasure—my pleasures.
Discovering them. Delivering them. And reading them out loud, which he does next.
His voice is a low rasp, his eyes flickering with heat, the bulge in his slacks getting harder with every spoken word like he can’t believe his luck.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m tied up in my bed, my arms stretched above me and tied to the slats on the headboard, my own silk scarves holding me in place.
My breath stutters in anticipation. I rub my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. But the ache is me now.
Especially since Tyler’s half-naked. His sweatshirt is long gone, and his shirt has been cast off, but he still wears the slacks from his post-game suit. It’s a hot look—especially considering how those beige slacks stretch against his thick thighs. And how his strong muscles flex in his arms as he checks the knots one more time.
I’m dressed in only panties and a bra. Somewhere in my apartment a little cat roams, but she’s fine.
And I’m more than fine as he kisses his way down my body, his lips trailing over the lace of my bra. With his teeth helping, he pushes the cups down, revealing my tits and hard nipples that might as well boast a neon sign flashing the words—Touch Me, Play With Me, Have Some Fun.
He sucks in a breath as he gazes lasciviously at them.
“Tell me,” he demands, flicking a finger against the right barbell. “Tell me why nipple play is on your list.”