Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I begin unbuttoning her top, annoyed at how many fucking buttons there are. “Let me see you.”
Beneath, she’s not wearing anything, and the sight of her, half-undressed and flushed with desire, hits me like a physical blow.
“Perfect.” I bend to press my lips to the swell of her breast. She whimpers, threading her fingers through my hair to hold me there.
I cup one tit, feeling her nipple harden against my palm. When I roll it between my fingers, she cries out, hips bucking against mine. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure so intense it’s almost pain. I’m painfully hard, straining against my jeans, desperate to be inside her.
“Rayne,” I growl. “I need to feel you. All of you.”
She nods frantically. Her breasts are perfect and soft. I lower my head, taking one nipple into my mouth, savoring her cry of pleasure. Her nails dig into my shoulders, urging me on as I lick and suck.
“Please, Ronan.”
I slide my hand down, beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms, finding her hot and wet through thin cotton. “Is this what you want?” I press against her center, feeling her hips jerk in response.
“Yes.” Her head falls back, eyes fluttering closed. “God, yes.”
I’m about to strip her completely, to take her right here on my kitchen counter, when a distinctive rumble breaks through the haze of desire. It’s like a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. The sound of tires on gravel. A car pulling up the driveway.
I freeze, instantly recognizing it. “Fuck.”
Rayne blinks up at me, lips swollen, eyes glazed. “What?”
“My son.” I step back, running a hand through my disheveled hair. Thank fuck we didn’t tear my top. “He’s back early.”
“Your—” Her eyes widen in shock. “You have a son?”
“Ryan. He’s five. He was with my parents overnight.” I button her top and smooth her hair, unable to stop myself from grazing her bottom lip with my thumb. “I wasn’t expecting them back until noon.”
She scrambles to cover herself, face flaming with embarrassment. “You didn’t think to mention you have a child?”
“It didn’t come up.” I button my shirt with shaking hands, willing my body to calm down.
She hops off the counter and runs her fingers through her hair. I almost laugh because that really didn’t do much. “This is … I don’t even know what this is! Please tell me you don’t have a wife or girlfriend.”
At this, I wipe the smirk off my face. “No, I don’t.”
The front door opens, voices drifting toward us. Ryan’s high-pitched chatter, my mother’s gentle responses. They’ll be in the kitchen any minute, and Rayne looks delightfully rumpled.
I step close to Rayne, cupping her face between my hands. “This isn’t over,” I promise, my voice low and fierce. “We will finish what we started.”
She stares up at me, trembling, lips still swollen from my kisses. Torn between wanting to run and wanting to drag me back against her.
“Daddy!” Ryan’s voice calls out, closer now. “Check out my new Godzilla toys! Yes, I said toys. We couldn’t find Mothra, but Nana bought me Rodan and Mechagodzilla.”
I brush my thumb across Rayne’s lower lip again. “We’ll talk later.”
I step away just as Ryan bursts into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy and excitement, leaving Rayne breathless against the counter, watching me with eyes that can’t decide between desire and panic.
4
RAYNE
Istand frozen against the counter, frantically smoothing my borrowed pajamas while my face burns hot enough to fry an egg. My hair’s a wild mess, my lips still tingling from Ronan’s kisses. If there was ever a moment I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole, it’s now.
Like, please.
A little boy rockets into the kitchen, clutching plastic monster toys in both hands. His dark hair and eyes make him a miniature version of Ronan. There’s just no mistaking whose child he is. He skids to a stop when he sees me, eyes widening with curiosity rather than suspicion.
“Who are you?” he asks, tilting his head.
Before I can stammer out an answer, an older couple appears in the doorway. The woman carries takeout bags that smell like heaven, while the man behind her holds a drink carrier with coffee cups. They both freeze mid-step, taking in the scene: me, disheveled in borrowed pajamas; Ronan, whose usual composure seems slightly cracked; and the kitchen counter where, minutes ago, we were about to—
Oh God. I’m going to die of embarrassment right here.
“Well, hello there,” the woman says, recovering first. Her smile is warm and genuine, completely at odds with the awkwardness of the situation. “I didn’t know Ronan had a guest.”
Ronan clears his throat. "Mom, Dad, this is Rayne Silva. Rayne, these are my parents, Thomas and Maggie."
His parents. His parents are here. And I’m wearing pajamas with my hair looking like I’ve been thoroughly kissed because I HAVE been thoroughly kissed by their son, who purchased me at an auction less than twenty-four hours ago.