Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
She doesn’t slow down. Not at all. “Why are you following me, you psychopath?”
Is she speculating or does she know how close that diagnosis is to the truth? “I couldn’t risk not seeing you again,” I growl, finally catching up with her, throwing an arm around her waist and yanking her backward, leaving her legs dangling as she struggles mightily against me. The fifth time she delivers a painful backward kick to my knee, she leaves me no choice but to pin her down on the ground, her cheek pressed to the ground. “Don’t fight me. There’s no need.”
“You were back at the office, weren’t you?” she whimpers. “Watching me?”
“Yes,” I hiss, no idea why I tell her the truth. No idea why it feels so good to tell her the truth. To trust her with information that could implicate me in a crime—a huge deal-breaker in my world. “The number of ways you could be taken from me at any given moment is unacceptable.”
“In order to be taken from you, I’d have to be yours. And…and I’m not.” Her voice falls to a whisper. “Am I?”
“Yes. I know it’s happening fast, but I’m begging you to accept that. And Meg, I never fucking beg. Not for anyone or anything but you.” Now that I’ve caught Meg, her scent is drugging my senses. I use my teeth to drag the hairband out of her hair, work my open mouth through the fallen strands, raking my stubble up the side of her neck, over the love bites I left behind earlier. “Accept that you’re mine. That I’m yours. That I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers, but hell if she doesn’t tilt her head so I can kiss her neck more fully, biting her lip when I suck a spot beneath her ear.
Still, she’s scared. Might as well saw me in half. “Of me?”
“In a way, yes. But more…more like…the feeling I’ve gotten myself into a situation I don’t know how to handle.”
I plant my knees on either side of Meg’s hips in order to turn her over, her tear-stained face breathtaking in the spill of moonlight. “I’ll handle it for you,” I vow.
She squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head.
“Yes,” I rasp on top of her mouth.
“You don’t understand.”
“Make me.” And then I kiss her and the world explodes with light. “Make me,” I say again, thickly, mentally, physically and emotionally overwhelmed, my lips moving on my behalf, pressing her softer ones open and seeking out her tongue, my cock stiffening brutally when she gasps, tentatively stroking my tongue with her own, her young body shifting beneath mine in obvious heat, her breath releasing in a shudder when she feels what she’s doing to me.
Just by living.
Just by breathing.
“I know I told you earlier that you should be scared of me, Meg, but I can’t think of anything worse.” I angle my body to one side, running a palm up along the valley of her side and molding one of her perfect tits in my hand, teasing her nipples with quick, little strokes of my thumb until she’s glassy-eyed. “My life was ending while you were running from me.”
“Y-you stalked m-me.” Her back arches on a breath. “I-I…that feels so good. Why does it feel so good to be with you when…when I know this kind of behavior is wrong?”
“Maybe wrong is right for us. Wrong might be all I have—I don’t know. Wanting someone the way I want you is new for me. For now, let me show you how sorry I am for scaring you,” I say, drawing her shirt up slowly, giving her a chance to say no—and when thankfully she doesn’t, deftly unsnapping the front clasp of her bra. Groaning when her breasts are left exposed to me, to the moonlight. So sweet and gorgeous, I don’t know how every male in the world isn’t here in this field, trying to fight me for her. “And if I can’t make you any less scared, let me show you why a little fear of me is going to be worth it.”
And then I rip her tiny shorts off, right there in the middle of the field.
6
Meg
Koen splits my shorts down the middle in his bare hands and tosses them sideways like yesterday’s newspaper. Looking me right in the eye, his cheekbones high with color, he gets down on his belly and in the grass, hooks his grip around the outside of my knees and drags me toward him with a possessive curl to his upper lip, resting it on my mound and closing his eyes, his inhales, exhales hot and shallow.
This is when I should kick him as hard as I can in the face. Fight for everything I’m worth. Scream.
I do none of those things. Instead, my fingers bury in the earth and a wave of dark excitement rides so furiously up my chest, it knocks my head back and I inhale the night air and lingering rain, my flesh weeping between my legs in a way I don’t understand. No one has ever explained in detail the business between a man and a woman when it comes to pleasure. The mechanics of baby making, sure. I get that.