Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Instead of answering, I press up onto my toes and rest my lips against his. With a soft moan, his mouth takes over, teasing me with kisses that feel sweet and tender. His hand slides over my ribs to rest on my waist. He takes his time as if he wants to explore slowly enough for me to get used to him. When his hands slide lower to grip my ass, I grip his shirt in my fists.
“So perfect,” he murmurs in between kisses. My hands have a life of their own, drifting over the fabric of his shirt, mapping his muscled chest as I grow familiar with the slide of his tongue over mine. Each cowboy has their own way of kissing and touching, different but so in tune with me, it’s like listening to three of my favorite songs from three different artists.
My fingers toy with his buttons, wanting to feel skin, and he draws back when my palm slides over his warm abs. “Taylor.” The rasp in his voice sends heat between my thighs that turns into a deep ache.
“Maverick.” My voice carries its own huskiness.
“We don’t have to.”
My flinch at his words is a reaction I can’t control, but he’s quick to clarify.
“I want to, muffin. So damn much.” To illustrate, he pulls my hand down to his crotch and presses it against his very hard cock. “See how much.”
I gasp at the unfamiliar hardness that pulses behind my palm. He’s big and so solid, and I flush imagining what it’ll be like to feel the heat of him.
“But do you?”
I nod. The need to feel his arms and the security they offer makes me tremble. Sex can’t fix anything, really. But it can make me forget for a while.
“Yes,” I whisper.
When he lifts my shirt over my head, I’m the one who unfastens my bra. It’s ratty and old and too small so leaving it on isn’t going to tantalize anyone.
“Jesus, Taylor.” Maverick’s eyes widen, and he reaches out to cup my breasts. I’m already wriggling out of my joggers, and I’m naked before he’s even unfastened a button of his own.
I’m the one who slides his shirt from his body, discovering his tan, muscular shoulders and chest, and rolling abs dusted lightly with just a little soft brown hair. He’s radiating so much warmth I get the urge to press my face against him and nuzzle against his gorgeous body, but I have more to unwrap.
His belt is harder to undo so he helps me, dropping his jeans and pulling his socks from his feet. Only his tight black boxer briefs remain between us, but they leave very little to the imagination.
Before I get a chance to remove the final layer, he scoops me under my ass, lifting me from my feet, a small foil packet crinkling in his grip. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, laughing brightly as he kisses between my breasts.
“You’re sweet as pie,” he murmurs.
“Which pie?”
“Peach pie. My favorite.”
I make a mental note to bake him one as soon as I have a minute in the kitchen. I expect him to drop me onto the bed, but instead, he strides to the wall, pushing my back against the cool plaster.
He holds me like I weigh nothing, all the bales of hay he’s moved over the years solidifying his strength. His mouth is hot on my nipple, and he sucks hungrily, moaning as I arch my back.
I shift my hips against the bar of his cock, seeking friction. Before I can catch my breath, he shoves down his underwear, quickly wraps himself, and notches in just the right place, braced and ready to enter me. I’m slick, but he’s big. Eye to eye, we both breathe fast, anticipation fluttering my heart.
“You ready for me?”
“Yes.” It’s a lie. I’m not ready for anything that’s happening in my life. I’m a tumbleweed, drifting on the wind, a plastic bottle swept from the shore, buffeted by the waves for eternity.
He pushes in just a little, and it burns. My body isn’t used to so much sex, and Clint and Jesse were both big enough to leave a tinge of soreness.
“Okay?”
“It hurts,” I admit.
Maverick lowers his eyes and shifts so he pulls back.
“No,” I tell him. “Don’t stop. Just go slow.”
He searches my face for confirmation of my words.
“I’ll give you an inch at a time,” he says. “Count with me. And if it gets too much and you want to stop, we can… at any time.”
“Okay.”
He pushes his thumb into my mouth and then presses the wet pad over my clit. We both focus between our bodies where we’re joined, and he’s touching me.
“One,” he says. With slow circles, he teases heat between my legs. Then he pushes in a little more. “Two.” He kisses my mouth, sliding his tongue across mine as we wait for my body to open.