Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
But then I’d found myself with an empty bottle when I’d needed more glass to seal my unhappy decision. Which found me in the kitchen, cloaked in darkness, and a new bottle open on the table. When who should come dancing into the kitchen but the object of my thoughts.
My desire.
I’d say it was a sign if I believed in such things.
I watched, and I drank in her expressions. Her anticipation, and dancing. Her joy in the moment. As she’d brought the cake fork to her lips, she’d made a sound of such blissful pleasure, I’d had to will myself to stay seated as a heat licked through my insides like a very talented tongue.
She was exuberant. I was in awe. And she reminded me of a lesson I should not have forgotten. Life is short. Too short for some of us. And joy is not a given but something we have to choose. And at that moment, I chose to give in.
I chose her.
“You say that now,” she says, starting up her argument again, “but you’d soon change your tune when you couldn’t make me—oh!”
Hands at her waist, I lift her to the countertop. This is inexperience talking, perhaps her involvement with lazy or selfish men. I press my palms to the counter by her sides and don’t miss the way her eyes fall to the flex of my triceps.
“Talk to me,” I coax, my voice low and soft. “Why won’t I be able to make you come a second time?” C'est des conneries! Absolute bullshit.
“I’m beginning to wonder if it was the setting,” she says, dropping her hands to her lap. “Maybe the place got me all… riled up.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” Not at all.
She lifts her head, those eyes so piercing. “Maybe it was the shock or the thrill of being at a sex club that pushed me over the edge.”
“The edge?” Into the void whispers a voice in my head. “You think you got off because you were at Ardeo?”
“Not to diminish your part in things”—she almost rolls her eyes—“but yeah. Maybe?”
What the fuck?
“Maybe I’m broken,” she adds in a tiny voice.
“We’re all a little broken, ma belle.” As I cup her cheek, the endearment catches us both off guard. I don’t remember the last time I used sweet words with a woman. “It’s called being human.”
She gives a shaky laugh. “You must be feeling very French. The English offer tea and words of sympathy, not philosophy.”
“This isn’t really a tea moment,” I say as I slide my hands under her knees to part her legs. Stepping between them, I press myself just there. “Primrose, you are misguided”—to put it very mildly—“but very, very beautiful.”
“You don’t have to flatter me.” She quirks a brow, though the tremor in her tone contradicts her posturing.
“The ways I would praise you,” I whisper the wicked taunt at her ear, relishing her sharp gasp. We’re so agonizingly close and she’s so frustratingly fuckable, even if she doesn’t seem to think so.
“This is a new version of you. I’m not sure I like it.”
A quick tug and she’s at the edge of the countertop, pressed against me. Against my cock. “Liar.”
She gives another tiny gasp as I cup her backside, bringing her closer and graze my teeth against the fleshy lobe of her ear. I slide my lips down the silky column of her neck, then press my mouth to the gentle slope of her shoulder. A suck. A flick of tongue, all the while, my cock strains to get closer.
She gives a tiny moan that’s a little ragged around the edges. “You’ll be disappointed.”
“Impossible,” I say with a dark chuckle. “I’ve seen you eat cake.” Whatever she was about to say seems to die on her lips. “The way people approach pleasure tells you everything about them. And that night aside, watching you eat cake was the hottest thing I’ve seen for a long time. You closed your eyes as you savored it, rolled it around your mouth just for the pleasure of its flavor. And I’m sure that sounds very familiar.” Her brows tighten a touch before I add, “Because you saw that same expression on my face as I devoured you.”
Her gaze skates away, but I bring her attention back, my finger pressed to her cheek. “The truth is, I’ve thought of little else since the night I dropped to my knees in Paris.”
Her teeth come down on her bottom lip, a slash of red highlighting her cheeks this time. “That sounds like a very strange kind of apology for pushing me out the door.”
“I want you. I want to taste you again. Let me.” Need claws at my insides. I want this so fucking badly.
“Is this your attempt at being nice?”
“I told you, Primevère.” My words sound a touch rough as I lean in. “I am never nice.”