Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 172061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 860(@200wpm)___ 688(@250wpm)___ 574(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 172061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 860(@200wpm)___ 688(@250wpm)___ 574(@300wpm)
She took a single step back as she flicked the button on her shorts. Woman a lure that was dragging me deeper into the lapping shadows of the room.
Cinnamon-spun hair raining around her delicate shoulders and dribbling down to brush her arms.
Eyes a boundless sea that shimmered in the night.
She pulled down the zipper and let her shorts drop to her feet, slipping out of her flip-flops at the same time.
Lust pounded through my bloodstream as I stared at her standing there. Clad in nothing but that white tank and a scrap of silky white underwear.
Legs toned and bare.
A growl rolled up my throat, and my cock pressed painfully at my jeans.
“Look at you,” I grumbled. So low it curled the air like vapor and vibrated against the walls. “Paradise smack in the middle of Hell.”
“That’s what it feels like when I’m with you.” Her confession wisped through the room, stoking the flames higher. “Like I’m lifted from the torture I’ve been living.”
“Get on the bed.” My teeth ground as I issued the command. My hands in fists as I attempted to maintain control. But I apparently had none when it came to her. No restraint when she released a needy sound.
She fumbled the rest of the way across the room and crawled backward onto the mattress. Those eyes were pinned on me the whole time.
Eating me alive and searing me through.
Her chest heaved as she edged back on the bed until she had pushed herself against a pile of pillows on the headboard, though she kept herself propped up on her hands.
A fucking angel in the middle of the mayhem.
Grace in the torment.
A flower blossoming in the middle of the night.
What a bastard that I wanted to taint that. Score myself all over her until she could only bud for me.
Her legs were barely bent at the knees, one drawn up a fraction higher and pressing into the other. Shaking and shaking while my body silently raged from across the room.
“Take me away, Cash. Take me away, just for a little while.”
Possession wound through me, this thing I could give her when all other ordinance was fading away.
“Spread those pretty legs. Want to see how wet you are for me.”
A gasp ripped from her, uncontrolled need rushing through her delicate frame as she slowly drew her feet up and planted them on the mattress.
So fucking slow.
Teasing me into lawlessness.
Then she dropped her knees until they were open wide.
That scrap of silk barely covered the temptation underneath. Her arousal seeping through and nearly sending me into a spiral.
A growl prowled my chest.
“Are you soaked, Little Wallflower? Dripping because you want me to send you soaring again?”
Her head tipped back with a moan, the tips of her hair brushing the bed below her and her chest arching out.
Those tits strained so hard at the fabric I could see the sweet, enticing peaks.
“Yes,” she whispered, those legs somehow dropping further. “I was so scared. So scared. I don’t want to feel that right now.”
“What is it you want to feel?”
“You.”
She issued it like she wanted all of me, something I couldn’t give, and I struggled to tamp the need that pounded through my being.
“Never have seen anything like you before, Daisy Adair. Not in all the years since I left. Every horizon bleak until I caught sight of you. The sun breaking free of the clouds for the first time since that night.”
What the fuck was I saying? Admitting?
But she needed to know. She needed to know the beauty she emitted. Needed to know what she was worth.
Everything.
“Want to tear you apart and put you back together. Touch you. Please you. Show you that you are meant to be adored. A fucking treasure. I want to take care of you.” The last croaked from somewhere in my soul, like that part of me was trying to get to her, too.
“Touch me,” she whimpered, voice dazed.
Drunk on the lust and the remnants of the trauma that reeled and wound through the room.
“Is that what you need, my Little Wallflower? You need me to make you feel good?”
“Only you can.”
I edged forward, a masochist who couldn’t resist the connection that thrummed between us.
Propelled by the electricity that buzzed and blazed in the atmosphere.
I eased down onto the side of the bed beside her and leaned in close to her face as I let my fingertips tap a path up the inside of her right thigh.
Chills lifted on her flesh, and I inhaled the quivering breaths that wheezed from her lungs.
“Want to erase every bad memory from you. Erase every wrong and rewrite you in pleasure. Give it to you every fuckin’ day.”
Her hips arched from the bed. “Please.”
“You want it? The pleasure I have in store for you?”
Her nod was frantic. A garbled, incoherent plea from her sexpot mouth.