Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
And hot… it would be pretty fucking hot having my lips anywhere on Dylan’s body. I swallowed and tried to ignore the swell of lust before it dragged me in too deep. “I am,” I said. “Have to have strong hands with what I do.”
“Hmm, going to need some proof of that.” Dylan licked his lips. I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious move or not but he spread his legs wider, his shorts riding up to show off what appeared to be miles of thick thighs dusted in light brown hair. The winds shifted and his scent filled my lungs. Sweet like strawberries, earthy like wet grass, clean like a babbling brook.
Perfection.
Something inside me shifted. Like a caged bird was slamming itself against the bars of its prison, trying to sneak out through my ribcage. It was an odd sensation. Almost like my body was actively fighting something. Was this the kind of nerves people talked about when they met someone they were really into? I’d dated in the past and had a few hookups here and there but never felt that spark people always talked about.
This couldn’t possibly be that, could it?
“Might have to let me know when you’re free then,” I said. I absentmindedly twirled the bracelet around my wrist, trying to focus on anything other than how close Dyl’s leg was to mine and how the sensation of his leg hair brushing against me made my dick twitch. All thoughts of stalkers and iron collars were quickly diminishing.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Dylan rolled his shoulders back and pushed his arms back. His biceps flexed, shadows forming under the defined muscles. “I’ve been sore as fuck lately.”
“You can stop by my office. Or”—don’t say it, don’t say it—“I have a massage table at my place.”
He perked up at that. “You do, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Nice, I’d like that.” There was a suggestive tone to his voice now.
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” I said, trying to sound as stern as possible even though I was already getting hard thinking about him lying naked and covered in oil on my table.
“Oh, trust me, what I’m thinking isn’t funny at all.” His cocky grin made my pulse quicken.
Half of me wanted to get up and run, knowing this was dangerous on so many levels.
The other half of me wanted to say “fuck it” and succumb to the gentle throb between my legs, aching for me to take action, to learn how Dyl’s lips taste and how his hands feel roaming my body. To massage his tense muscles and make him moan in pleasure as I teased out the knots. I’d start with his thighs, using my knuckles to dig into his thick legs, my hands moving up higher and higher.
Fuck.
It’d be so easy to pull those shorts and let his dick out for some fresh air. I wanted to do the same with mine.
A hundred different reasons why that would be a bad idea crossed through my mind. We were out in public, we had practically just met, he was a player on the team I worked for, maybe he wasn’t even into me the same way I was into him…
And yet the only thing I could think was: Make a fucking move.
It was one of those moments I knew I’d look back on and wonder what might have happened if I wasn’t such a cautious coward. If maybe I just followed my instincts for once instead of being scared of imaginary consequences. Because at the end of the day, most of the bullshit I envisioned happening never came to pass. Maybe that fear of the unknown was passed down to me by my father, who had to suffer one of the most earth-shattering consequences of all.
How could he have? He never would have imagined my mother dying during childbirth, and yet that’s what happened.
He lived cautiously ever since. From keeping me out of rough-contact sports to putting off getting my driver’s permit for as long as possible. It didn’t matter that I had shifter genes and he knew I could heal from most injuries that would take out a regular human. He tried to keep me in a protective bubble, always worried about what tragedy could happen. Even when, ninety percent of the time, there was nothing remotely dangerous to worry about. I loved him for it—for trying to keep me safe—but the unfounded fears had stopped me from having many life experiences that would have been normal and formative for a growing kid.
It was long past time for me to pop the bubble.
I licked my lips. My eyes darted down to his. They were shining, plump, pink under the sunlight. He wasn’t wearing any cologne—only a pleasant deodorant that reminded me of fresh laundry—so his natural scent filled my nose as I inhaled, drinking him down into my lungs. My senses were only slightly heightened when I was in my human form, but even that didn’t explain just how intoxicating he smelled.