Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
His pace increases and he leans forward, placing his left hand by my hip while using his right to lift my knees, spreading me even wider. He plunges deeper, hitting the perfect spot within.
“Right. There,” I huff out in staccato to match his pace. I brace myself by grabbing his right bicep with my left hand and a firm hold to his ass with the other, encouraging him to give it to me harder.
He continues to pound into me, my body willingly taking all he has to give. His right hand comes to my clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, providing the extra stimulation I need to fall over the edge. My back arching, his mouth finds my nipple as he sucks hard, shooting another jolt of pleasure right to my core. I scream his name as I come, not caring at all that my teammates may very well hear.
One, two, three more thrusts, and Griff is following me over. His body stiff, he plants himself hard, buries his face in my neck, and groans out his release.
We lay there for a few moments, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the air, my hand leaving his ass to rub lazily up and down his muscular back.
“I should take care of the condom,” he says into the side of my neck. “But fuck if I want to move.”
“It’s fine for another minute,” I reply. Because I don’t want to move just yet either. I want to soak up every second of this moment.
“I could get used to hearing you scream my name,” he says as he lifts his head to make eye contact.
“Funny, because I could get used to screaming it,” I respond with a laugh, leaning forward to drop a quick kiss on his full lips.
CHAPTER 18
Griffin
I wasn’t actively looking for a relationship.
A woman.
Anything.
Just trying to do my job and do it well.
The complication of Bebe Grimshaw wasn’t welcome at first. That first night I stalked her and saw her through her kitchen window, I was pissed Bogachev had laid this on my doorstep. Yet, I wasn’t going to turn my back on this strange woman who was now in extreme danger.
She was so fucking beautiful and mysterious. I had no clue that in just shy of two weeks, I’d be lying naked in her bed.
Bebe doesn’t sleep well. She tosses and turns, startling easy. I would think someone who probably slept for shit for so many years in prison would sleep like the dead now, but she doesn’t.
Lying on my side facing her, I hold still and just watch her. Her facial features are smoothed out, lips slightly parted as she breathes shallowly, probably just floating on the edge of consciousness. The sheet is pulled up over her breasts, but I take a moment to admire some of the artwork she has on her arms and shoulders. Her tattoos are nowhere near as prolific as mine, which bleed into each other and tell a moving story. Bebe’s are individualized, perhaps denoting just brief moments in her life.
I hope there comes a day when I can learn about those moments. All of them. The ones when she was just a brilliant college student, those where she was lulled into crime, and those where she did her penance. I want to know it all.
But for now, I’ll take what she’s giving me, which is her body and little bits of insight into her soul as she allows.
Reaching out, I trail a finger over Bebe’s collarbone. As expected, the barely-there touch causes her to wake up. Her eyes don’t even flutter, but merely pop wide open. She slowly rolls her head on the pillow, giving me a languid smile.
“Good morning.” Pushing up onto an elbow, I move my finger from her collarbone, down her chest, and hook it into the edge of the sheet. I start to drag it over her breasts, her nipples contracting hard when they’re revealed.
“Good morning,” she replies, her voice smoky and inviting.
I lean over, bringing my mouth to hers to experience our first morning kiss together. Bebe isn’t shy. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she draws me down.
My body instantly reacts, despite the fact it should be well sated. We went at it all night, and I have to believe Bebe might be a little sore.
Reluctantly, I pull my lips from hers. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips puffy and I wait for her to focus in on me. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Bebe shifts, gives a little moan, and admits. “Like I had a lot of sex last night.”
Chuckling, I press my mouth to hers for a hard, swift kiss. “How about a hot bath?”
Her lips purse into the cutest pout. “No bathtub in the little apartment.”
“Hot shower?” I offer instead.
She seems to consider that, but then gives me a sly smile. “Admittedly, I’m a bit sore, but I’m also not afraid of a little pain.”