Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
With his nostrils flared, he rips them down, skimming over my legs before he tosses them aside.
Now, I’m truly naked.
Naked in front of Ethan Blackthorn.
Not something I ever thought I’d be until recently. Until he filled my head with electric fantasies after the kiss to end all kisses.
And he devours me with a glance.
God, there’s so much night in his eyes I worry I’ll keep falling—falling, drowning, losing myself.
Will I ever stop?
There’s no blue left except for this midnight shadow, so dark it’s almost menacing.
The cool air kisses between my legs, and I close them so he can’t see everything, suddenly self-conscious.
But when he sees me hiding, he takes my knees, pulling them open.
“Everything, Pages,” he commands with a gruffness that zips up my spine. “Show me everything.”
Oh, I’m painfully aware of my imperfections.
From this angle, my ample boobs slump and there’s a crease in my belly from the way my thighs are propped up.
A dozen good reasons to hate my body come flooding back, especially when I remember who’s feasting with his eyes.
Ethan, he’s been with tons of women, and I bet they’re all model-perfect.
Beautiful.
Flawless.
Either naturally amazing or airbrushed by expert stylists and pruned by surgeons in ways I never will be.
My thighs have cellulite.
I’ve never been able to lose that extra ring around my lower belly.
And my skin? Almost untannable after a lifetime in Maine and the worst British genes. Here, too much fun in the sun makes me skip right past the golden-brown tan and throws me straight into lobster-worthy sunburns.
“Hattie, look at me,” he whispers.
He isn’t moving now, even though his wide chest is heaving.
I swallow thickly.
I suck in a slow, steadying breath because—
Well, I’m scared of what I’m going to see.
Frustration clashes with the desire in his gaze, and the sight of it makes my toes curl.
“Whatever you’re thinking about yourself right now, stop.” His hand on my knee slides over, tracing my inner thigh. “Be in the moment with me. Listen and believe when I tell you I want you.”
Every word cuts like a flaming sword.
And it’s hard to ignore the truth behind his words with the large, pulsing bulge in his pants.
He leans over, his eyes still boring into mine.
“Deal? Do we have one?” His lips are soft as he ghosts them over my jaw. “You know better than this. You’re too damn smart. You’re not going to think you’re anything less than gorgeous before I fuck your brains out,” he murmurs against my skin, his teeth grazing my throat.
I shudder.
…does he hear himself?
Does he understand he’s killing me right now?
“Pages, talk to me,” he demands.
“O-okay. Yes,” I stammer, sighing as his kisses take full control. “Show me how much you want me.”
The challenge ignites his eyes.
He smiles as he unbuttons his shirt.
Not slowly, but with real deliberation, like he knows that every revealed inch of skin makes my mouth dry.
He’ll never know my struggles—and that’s what makes this so intense, a man with such confidence in his looks ordering me to sprout some with mine.
He’s supremely chiseled, boasting rigid, defined muscles I thought were myths until I saw them in real life.
A very smug, very male, very satisfied look shines on his face as he watches me bite my lip and blush.
Please tell me I’m not drooling.
But every girl has this kind of fever dream at least once in her life, I think?
Wanting a man like him—this gorgeous beast—getting naked and growly in front of you.
But it’s actually happening.
That’s what’s so hard for my brain to accept.
When he tugs down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free, it’s like my own personal fantasy coming to life.
Yes, he’s punishing.
Girthy and angry, this hammer of pulsing veins, made for judgment.
There’s a tiny bead of moisture on the end of his cock.
Before I overthink it, I push myself forward, grab him, and lick it off, inhaling his scent as I press him against my face.
He groans like a storm.
Then his hand comes down, fisting my hair like rope.
“Fuck, little Hattie, you should wear your glasses for this.” His voice grates, knowing I took them off for the big dress parade. “If I get full sexy librarian sucking my cock, you should look the part.”
My pussy throbs as I get up and find my glasses on his nightstand, then quickly walk back over.
No hesitation.
I obey the demands of his greedy hands when they find my hair again, urging my mouth to engulf him.
Yes, he’s flipping huge.
Yes, I need a hot second to adjust, and the pressure on the back of my head eases as I fight to accept his size, his width, his heat.
“That’s fucking right,” he whispers when I move again, taking him deeper. “That’s it. Good girl.”
Oh.
The unexpected praise sends fresh heat spiraling through me.
I adjust on the bed, my legs shifting open automatically.