Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
When he reaches a point of resistance, he thrusts against it, and I feel a flash of pain that steals my breath.
Our eyes meet at the exact moment he’s fully seated inside of me, and we both know I’m no longer a virgin. Instead, I’m fully and completely his.
“Are you okay, sweet girl?” he whispers, in a gentle voice. “I want this to be so good for you. It’s all that matters to me.”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s perfect because I’m with you.”
After a beat, he moves inside me, until the pinch begins to subside. I wrap my legs around his waist, raising my hips to meet his movements, wanting him to know I’m all right.
“Tell me I’ll be your last,” he breathes, possessing me with the deepest kiss.
“The only one,” I sigh against his lips.
The pain turns to pleasure as he makes love to me in a sweet and gentle rhythm. Then he teases my most sensitive spot with his finger, making slow circles, and I know my release is seconds away.
“Come for me, sweet girl,” he says, coaxing with his words and touch.
My orgasm rushes over me, and I’m lost to the feelings as he continues his movements inside me.
When I open my eyes and gaze up at this beautiful man who holds my heart, his eyes reflect a wild desperation as he falls over the edge too.
“Tessa,” he hisses in a long breath.
The look on his face, the pained pleasure etched in the strain of his jaw, will forever be burned in my memory.
After we both catch our breaths, he rests his forehead against mine with a sigh. His breath smells of bourbon and spice like a man, and I inhale deeper.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he says. “You okay?”
“Amazing,” I say with the most contented smile.
He gives me a quick kiss before getting up to discard the condom. I bite my lip as he strides away to the en suite bath, watching the slightest jiggle in his tight butt. I fall back on the bed in a swoon.
When he returns, he puts his underwear back on, and walks toward the bed. I think he’s going to climb in beside me, but he wraps the white bedspread around me like a cocoon and cradles me in his arms instead.
“I want to show you something,” he says, carrying me toward a set of French doors.
“Open it, please.” He bends down, and I turn the knob, pushing the door free from the inside. He pads outside onto a large terrace filled with loungers and table sets.
He eases us down on one of the loungers, and I lie back against his chest. “Look up,” he says, and I do. “There’s nothing between us and the universe in the night’s summer sky.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, gazing up at the twinkling stars shining brighter than the city lights.
“But not as beautiful as you,” he marvels.
He folds me tighter into his arms and we stare at the sky, listening to the humming white noise of the city below. And somewhere in the warmth of his embrace, I drift off, lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest.
43
Tessa
“Tessa,” Barclay calls, pulling my brain out of its slumber. “Time to wake up, sleepy head.”
“Go away,” I mutter, refusing to open my eyes. He’s interrupting a beautiful dream of last night with him. “My dream was just getting to the good part.”
“And what part might that be?” he asks, stroking my cheek.
The man isn’t letting up on getting me up, so I give in and peek at him through fluttering lashes. My eyes go wide at the sight before me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed decked out in an onyx colored suit that matches the color of his smoky eyes. His wavy black hair is perfectly smoothed back, and he smells divine. I want to grab him by his red silk tie and drag him back to bed with me.
“You’re too handsome and tempting for this early in the morning.”
Since I fell asleep without clothes on, I pull the soft sheets up to my neck and move to sit beside him. Unable to fight his magnetic presence, I run a finger along his lapel, toying with one of the buttons on his jacket.
“It’s not that early, sweetheart,” he says, pointing to the clock on the nightstand. Eight thirty. Whoa, he’s right.
If I were still employed at Hammond Press, I’d have to be at my desk, computer fired up, and ready to roll in thirty minutes, which makes me wonder why Barclay didn’t wake up sooner. Just like I feared, I’m already getting preferential treatment by being in his bed.
“Last night … I should’ve told you something before we did all this.” I glance away from his intense gaze and take a deep breath for courage.