Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
He was ready just in case I needed him.
Fully clothed at midnight, sauntering my way like I was coming in from work at a decent hour, and he was heading in my direction to greet me.
To greet me after we went on a dangerous assignment that night, he knew it, and he didn’t say boo.
Not even boo.
Yes, I belonged to this man. I knew it from the very beginning.
And he belonged to me too.
Without a thought (but even if I had one, I wouldn’t have changed what I did next), I dropped the bag, my purse, raced to him and hit him dead on.
My arms went around his neck.
His arms clamped around me.
He backed me up, turned us and slammed me against the wall.
Mm.
Nice!
Then he kissed me.
That was not nice.
It was sublime.
Like the first one, it went wild instantly.
No exploration. No restraint. It didn’t even start out dry.
It was all wet.
Hungry.
Claiming.
It had been months since the last kiss. So much had happened. We were starved for more, and neither of us hid it.
His arms were crushing me.
My hands were fastened to his head, holding him to me.
We both thrust, sucked, nipped, bit, devoured.
But abruptly, Gabe broke it off, and when he did, I mewed pitifully.
I knew what he was thinking, and he was correct.
No, this wasn’t the right time to do this.
But this was still the time.
Before I could say word one to convince him of this, he took my wrist and held my arm out, then came back in, his shoulder dipped like he was going to make a tackle.
He didn’t tackle.
He hefted me up in a fireman’s hold.
I was already wet, but that made me wetter.
Him stalking toward the stairs with me on his shoulder made me drenched.
He carried me up the stairs, threw me on the bed, and…
Yep.
Now soaked.
He yanked off my booties and socks before I could blink.
I was pushing up, about to help by pulling off my shirt (actually, his shirt), but he put his hands to his own and whipped it off, thus I was confronted with his magnificent chest, so I had no choice but to freeze in order to drink it in.
Gabe didn’t freeze.
He reached, and with maximum contact from the second his hands went under my shirt, he dragged them up my sides from my waist, over my ribs, my arms, which were forced up, and then the shirt was gone.
I shivered in excitement.
But I gasped in delight as he fisted his hand in my hair and he just held me, gazing at him, while the heat of his eyes burned into mine, and then, click, my bra was undone at the back, and swish, with a finger hooked at the front between my breasts, it was yanked off, again my arms moving with it.
Such a smooth, sexy move.
Dayum.
He didn’t even look at my breasts as both hands went to the button on my black jeans.
No.
It was maximum contact again, this time with his eyes.
Good Lord, it was so luscious how he refused to let go of my gaze.
How he made this about me and him, and not my body or just the sex.
Twist and zip, and then my jeans were gone, and he took my panties with them.
I was sitting naked, wet and ready on his bed in front of him, and I had no chance to panic at being exposed like that, like I normally would do.
He straightened, a few flicks at his fly, and his pants were down.
He took his boxer briefs with them.
I had a millisecond to take in all that was Gabriel Stark, there was a lot (a whole lot), and all of it was beautiful (seriously beautiful), before his hands went under my arms, he hauled me deeper in bed, then his weight was on me and his mouth crashed back down on mine.
I went after him.
Everything I could touch, everything I could feel, everything I could taste.
I loved his rough, hairy legs scraping against mine, his furred chest teasing my nipples, his hard cock jabbing against the soft skin of my hip and thigh, the feel of his heated, silky skin over his rock-hard muscle, the dizzying array of swells and dips, planes and angles, the gentle grazing of his beard against my skin.
And he went after me the same way.
It was intense. It was consuming.
It was everything.
Eventually, he kissed and bit and licked his way between my legs.
Okay.
All right.
Yes.
He slung one over his broad shoulder, spread the other one wide (another yes), and no hesitation, went in with his mouth.
Now that was a fuck yes.
No, never.
Not ever was I going to let him shave that…fabulous…beard.
I cupped the back of his head, found purchase with my heel in his back, surged up and moaned.
Gabe went after me down there too.
And, oh yeah, he was good.