Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” She jerks her chin at my bare chest.
A rumble of laughter rolls out of me, the sound foreign in my throat.
She throws a dramatic hand against her chest. “Oh my God,” she drawls. “Did Declan Sterling just laugh?”
I wipe the grin off my face and rub my hand over my stomach. “I’m more comfortable sleeping like this.”
She tugs at the hem of the T-shirt. “Well, I’m comfy too.” She slides her gaze over me. “And I’m not complaining about your attire. Not at all. But I guess you think I look like a toad and want me to cover up, so…” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder, “I’m gonna go back to bed.”
“No, don’t.” I reach for her, wrapping my fingers over her wrist. My ink reacts immediately, pulsing and quivering with excitement. This time it’s not exactly unpleasant. More like the sensation of warm water ebbing against my skin.
Emery gasps. “What…what is that?”
Her wide eyes lock on mine, and for a split second, I forget to breathe. My heart thunders louder than hoof beats.
I tug her closer, her feet whispering over the old wood floors. She stops about an inch away.
“I’m afraid to touch you again,” she whispers.
“I know.” I run my gaze over her again and give her the most important truth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She lowers her lashes and stares at our linked hands. “We’re touching now and it feels good.”
I hold out her arm, searching to see if the green has crept elsewhere. It’s still just the single thin green line. Relief loosens my chest, but my need for her coils tighter.
If I don’t let her go soon, I won’t let her go at all.
“Emery…” Her name grates out of me, rougher than I intend. More like a warning.
Run. Go back to your room and lock the door behind you.
She tips her chin up. “What?”
“You should go back to bed,” I rasp.
“Why?” She stares at me, pure challenge in her eyes and steps closer.
“Don’t.”
She carefully slides her arms around my neck and presses herself against me. “You’re all nice and warm.” Her bottom lip juts out. “And I’m chilly.”
“There’re extra blankets in the trunk.” For fuck’s sake, I can’t come up with something better than that?
She leans up on tiptoes but I’m already bending down. Our lips crash together before I can list all the reasons I shouldn’t allow this.
Her lips are warm, eager, and part under mine. She tastes like sleep and cinnamon. My free hand fists in the fabric of my T-shirt, loose around her body, dragging her closer until her curves press into my bare chest.
“Emery…” I grind her name against her lips, kissing her again, slower now, reverent and reckless all at once. My hands map the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin beneath my shirt.
The mark on her wrist flares hot against my skin where we’re still touching. I release her, expecting her to wince in pain. Instead, her kisses turn more insistent. No iron tang, just the sweet taste of her filling my mouth. No hoofbeats. The Rider isn’t close.
We’re safe.
For now.
The thought that this might be our only time together rattles through my head, loosening the desire I’ve kept shackled down since the moment she walked into my shop. I cup her face in both hands and kiss her deeper, slower, savoring the slide of her tongue against mine.
A small, needy whimper from her throat shoots straight through me. Her arms tighten around my neck, like she’s trying to get closer, fuse our bodies together. I slide my hands to the small of her back, then lower, cupping her behind and pulling her into me. I fist the shirt in my hands and drag the material up until my knuckles graze warm skin.
“You’re not wearing underwear,” I groan.
She smiles against my lips. “Nope.”
The last shred of self-control I have snaps. I grip her hips and back her against the table, lifting her and setting her on top.
Emery
The table I’d bumped into earlier is cool under my butt. Afraid I’ll tip it over, I scoot back from the edge. But Declan’s right there, wedging himself between my knees and anchoring me in place.
“Emery,” Declan breathes in my ear, sliding his fingers through my wetness. I can’t help but spread my legs wider, granting him access. “You’re really not wearing anything.”
“Look at you, so observant.” I was trying to be playful but I just sound desperate.
Shivers dance over my skin as he traces one finger along my hip. “Not even a tiny little thong.” Pure male amazement colors his words.
“I don’t like thongs,” I pant.
He groans and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds like he’s savoring the feel of me. “You’re so wet.”
Heat flames over my cheeks. Not embarrassment. Excitement that he’s touching me. That he’s discovering how much of an effect he has on me.