Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
We kissed and kissed, and I…I still wanted more. Wanted to keep pretending as liquid fire poured through me, erasing the icy touch of Lord Chaney, washing away the suffocating feel of the room where death had surely come and gone by now, and all the unknown of what awaited.
He knew this, sensed this, and he gave me what I desperately needed.
His hand finally, finally moved from my cheek, trailing down, smoothing over my breast. There was a reverence to his touch, as if he worshiped me as he slid his hand under the hem of my sweater. Flesh against flesh. My body jerked as his fingers skimmed over the patchwork of scars and then moved farther up, over the lines of my ribs, the bottom swell of my breast. I moaned into his mouth as his thumb reached the turgid peak. Sharp spikes of pleasure twisted through me.
He made a deep, dark sound that rumbled through me as the hand at my neck dropped to the small of my back. He pulled me away from the cupboard, against the hard length of his body, and still, he devoured me with his lips, branded me with his touch. The hunger in him should’ve scared me, but all it did was inflame the same need within me.
We were only pretending…
But this felt so very real.
He felt all too real, his lips against mine, my chin—his touch at my breast, my back, and against my body. My head fell back as his mouth trailed a blazing path to the healed bite. I felt the hot wetness of his tongue, the wicked sharpness of his fangs as he scraped them along my flesh. I cried out, my entire body tensing, coiling in delight and forbidden anticipation.
“Poppy,” he breathed, maybe pleaded. I wasn’t sure. His tongue flicked over my skin.
Would he bite me?
Did I want that?
Would I stop him?
My body already knew the answer as I reached up, sinking my hand into the soft strands of his hair.
“You want that?” he whispered against my sensitive skin. “Don’t you?”
I shuddered, unable to answer.
“You do.”
An aching pulse stole my breath, and then, in a feat of impressive strength, he shifted his hands under my thighs and lifted me as he turned. My back hit the door as he hooked my legs around his waist. His body met mine, and he pressed in, the hardest parts of him against the softest parts of me.
I moaned as his mouth closed over my neck. He drew the skin between his sharp teeth, and my hips lifted from the door, pushing against his.
He drew harder on the skin, wringing another cry from deep within me, but he didn’t break the flesh. He didn’t draw blood. Instead, he teased and taunted until every nerve ending felt stretched to its breaking point, until I rocked against him, with him.
And when his mouth finally returned to mine, I knew we were both quickly losing control.
We were pretending.
Even as he kissed as if he drank from my lips. Even as he ground against me, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders and then the material covering his chest. We were pretending.
Slowly, the kisses slowed, his hips still pinning mine to the door. He was breathing as raggedly as I was when he lifted his mouth from mine. “I think…I think that is enough.”
Was it?
Letting my head fall back against the door, I nodded as I swallowed. It had to be enough because this was insanity—it was leading to more insanity. It seemed like he was minutes away from stripping me bare and taking me against the door. It felt like I was seconds away from begging him to. My grip on his shirt loosened as I opened my eyes.
Casteel stared down at me, his lips swollen, eyes a vivid, molten gold. Gods, he was shamelessly beautiful, and he looked as thoroughly undone as I felt.
He made a deep, rumbling sound. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I didn’t recognize the throaty voice.
“Like you don’t think that was enough.” His hand smoothed over my hip, cupping my rear as he pulled my lower body away from the door and against his ridge of thick hardness. He caught my gasp with a quick, deep kiss I wanted to sink into.
But the kiss ended, and he gently eased my legs down. He stayed close for several moments, his forehead resting against mine as he smoothed the strands of my hair back with hands I swore trembled slightly. My knees felt oddly weak when he took a step back, putting space between us. Our gazes met, and the aching want in me pounded along with my heart.
“That was…” I bit my lip, having no idea what I was going to say.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He returned to where I stood, catching a strand of my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “It’s probably best that we don’t.”