Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“So good,” he said against my mouth, and I could feel his smile before he swept back in, stealing every thought as he turned me into a boneless heap of want.
His hand drifted under my hoodie and up my rib cage to cup my breast.
I sucked in a breath, arching into his hand. More. I needed more.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” he admitted in a harsh whisper, his mouth sliding to my neck.
My fingers bit into his shoulders. “I can’t stop thinking about it—about you and me. The bed. The shower. The wall. It’s on constant repeat in my brain.”
He groaned, and our mouths met in a blatantly carnal kiss. My body hummed with need, coming alive under his touch. When he gripped my hips and hauled our bodies flush, I felt exactly how the kiss had affected him too.
“It’s not going to be just one night.” His fingers flexed on my upper thighs.
“No, it’s not.” My hands slid up his shirt, caressing the hard ridges of his abs.
“I want you.” His fingers stroked my inner thigh, dipping under the fabric of my glorified boxer shorts. There was more than enough room for his hand, and he delved beneath my thong. “I want whatever this is between us.”
“Weston.” I jolted forward, moaning against his shoulder at the first touch. I melted at the second and my hips rocked against his hand with the third. He knew exactly how to turn me on and was using that knowledge to set me on fire. “Wait. How much did you drink while you were out?” I couldn’t even taste any alcohol in his kiss, but if sober Weston said we were only happening once, then I wasn’t listening to drunk Weston just because it suited my needs.
“One beer about three hours ago,” he answered. “I’m completely in my right mind, if that’s what you’re getting at. The only thing I’m drunk on is you.” Then he kissed me, and I forgot every single reason we shouldn’t do this. Who cared if we went down in flames and things got awkward? Having him for however long I could was worth the risk.
The damage was done—I was already in love with him, so how much further could I fall?
“Let me take you upstairs.” He kissed my jaw, then the edge of my mouth as his fingers stroked and teased my clit.
I was going to die if we waited any longer. “Here. Now. Right now.”
He stiffened. “Sutton—”
“Sleeping.” I reached for the button of his jeans, flicking it open. “And we’d hear if she wasn’t.” A simple tug had him unzipped, and then my hand was around him. He was hot and thick against my palm, and so very, very hard.
“Fuck, Callie.” He ripped his wallet out of his back pocket and put it on the counter, his hand leaving me to pull out a condom.
I took it from his hand, tearing open the packet. Then I looked him straight in the eye as I rolled it over him, my hand stroking down his length until I reached the base of him, my other hand tugging his jeans and underwear to just below his ass. The groan that rumbled through his chest only made me more frantic.
“You’re sure?” He pulled me to the edge of the counter and shoved the opening of my shorts to the side.
“Never been more sure,” I whispered.
His fingers tugged the fabric of my underwear aside with my shorts, and then they were inside me, pumping and curling as his thumb worked my clit. When I parted my lips, he swallowed my whimpers with his mouth, his tongue thrusting with the same rhythm of his fingers. “You’re so ready for me.”
“I need you,” I said, the only thing I knew would break his control.
“Calliope.” Then his fingers were gone and he was at my entrance, hard and urgent. He thrust at the same time he pulled me to him, his hand at my lower back while the other held the back of my neck.
I gasped as I took every inch, my body molding around his as he moved within me.
Hard, deep strokes had me keening, and I muffled the sound against his neck as my hips rocked to meet every drive of his hips.
“So. Damned. Hot.” He punctuated every whispered word with a thrust.
“More.” It was the only word I could say as I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles. I held onto his shoulders as he pulled me into every stroke, our hips meeting again and again.
The tension within me wound tighter, but I hung on, even when my thighs trembled and my breath came in stuttered gasps.
“Right. Fucking. There.” He reached between us and stroked me over the edge with tight little swirls of his fingers and the most glorious pressure.