Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
With one knee, he nudged her thighs wider before bending both until he was in place. Without any more words or further preparation, he drove up and into her. Spearing her deep.
She’d been ready. Wet.
Proof she got off on messing with him.
Whatever.
He would give her what she wanted and then get the fuck out of there the second they were done. He wouldn’t linger. This wouldn’t turn into anything more than what it is. A quick way to get the both of them off.
Afterward, they would move on and hopefully forget it ever happened.
He could get back to concentrating on the task force. Sleep more soundly. Return to his regular dating life. Hang with his brothers.
Fuck.
Even he didn’t believe any of his own bullshit.
Proving, once again, why none of this was a good idea.
He stilled deep inside her, giving her a moment to stretch around him since she was a snug fit.
It wasn’t exactly as he fantasized.
It was so much fucking better.
“Crew…”
He focused on her face.
“I need you to move,” she encouraged.
“Give me a second…”
If he had to admit it, he didn’t only stay still to allow her to adjust. He needed to keep himself from losing his shit.
Luckily, she had no idea he had fantasized about doing this every fucking night since that day at the Pittsburgh field office.
She had no clue she haunted him in his dreams. Because if she did, she’d ride his ass about it.
Her short nails dug into the top of his bare ass, right above where his boxer briefs hung precariously.
Keeping his jeans on and remaining dressed was a good idea. It showed her that this was nothing more than a quick fuck.
Because that was all she was. All she could be.
Nothing more.
She was so damn wrong for him.
It would be stupid to think otherwise.
Chapter Fourteen
He wasn’t moving.
He needed to move.
Her nails weren’t long but she dug them deeper into his ass, anyway, to spur him to move. “Crew…”
He took a deep breath like he needed to steel himself, or maybe bring himself back from wherever he went.
Finally, he began to thrust up and into her.
Just what she had wanted, right?
Not exactly. She hadn’t expected to get fucked against a wall. With him still dressed. After only a kiss and no other foreplay at all.
She kind of felt cheated.
To her, it was similar to getting the entree before the waiter even asked if she wanted a drink. Or before she was served her appetizer.
The man was in his early forties. She had hoped to experience some of the skills he surely learned along the way.
She’d been with older men before and they had never disappointed her. They seemed to care about making sure the woman was satisfied. In contrast, every time she’d been with a man under thirty, they tended to be a bit more self-centered.
It could have been just the luck of the draw.
Even so, she had a feeling Crew was holding back and still warring with himself.
For no good reason that she knew of.
Could being divorced make him more cautious with who he slept with? She had no idea since she’d never been in a relationship serious enough to have a bad breakup.
She got him to focus on her by calling out his name. “Crew.” Once she had his undivided attention, she continued, “You might as well make this worth the guilt you think will eat at you afterward.”
He stuttered to a stop. “Guilt for what?”
“You tell me. I expected for us to go at it hot and heavy. Instead, you’re holding back. You’re scared about something.”
His jaw shifted. “I’m not fucking scared.”
“Well then, fuck me like you aren’t.” She threw down the challenge glove. Would he pick it up?
“I am fucking you.”
“No. You’re going through the motions but—” She gasped when he slammed into her. “Yes, like that. Because if you don’t want to do this…”
“Shut up, Cami. Just shut the fuck up. Stay out of my goddamn head.”
“Forget my age. Forget who my father is. Concentrate on me. On what you’re doing. Stay in this room and forget everything else.”
“I…” Thrust. “Said…” Thrust. “Shut…” Thrust. “The…” Thrust. “Fuck...” Thrust. “Up.”
She smothered a grin because she had goaded him into getting his head back into the game and back into her bedroom.
To concentrate on what they were doing.
To push past whatever guilt he had. Or the guilt he perceived he would have later.
The soft grunt he added onto the end of each stroke stoked the flames flicking at her core.
“This what you wanted?” he forced past his clenched teeth while continuing to power up and into her.
“Yes,” came out of her on a breath.
“This what you wanted?” he asked again, louder.
“Yessss,” she hissed.
“This what you wanted?” he yelled, her body jolting violently with each slam.
“Yes!” she yelled back. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”