Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
And then I arch again, crying out softly, closing my eyes and giving myself over to sweet release. One wave after another washes over my writhing body, warming my skin and tightening my nipples. Making the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. He always knows exactly what I want, and how I want it. How I need it.
He’s still gradually kissing his way up my body when I open my eyes. When he rolls me onto my side, I go with him, sighing happily when his hard body presses against my back, and he lifts my leg to make room for his stiff cock. I reach down to guide him inside me, and he moans in my ear once he’s sunk deep.
“So good,” he grunts, moving slowly, waking my body up to even more profound pleasure. Not just the pleasure of him filling me, building friction in time with his soft grunts in my ear. It’s the pleasure of being this close, skin-to-skin, just the two of us in a nest of blankets and pillows, warmed by the sun streaming through the window. Working together in these few precious moments before the day starts. The pleasure of just being. No guilt, no doubt, nothing in our way.
I reach behind me and take the back of his neck in my hand, twisting my head around so our mouths meet. Every stroke of his tongue against mine is in time with the strokes below, and soon, we’re both breathing fast, lost in sensation that begins to heat up.
He snakes an arm around me, massaging my boobs before sliding that hand lower and finding my clit. It’s like my body bursts into flame all at once, and I welcome it. I want it. I strain against him, moving faster while his strokes go deeper, harder. “Tatum,” he rasps in my ear. I can only whimper in response. So close…
And then it all explodes, and he slams deep before filling me with a rush of warmth. His satisfied groans mix with mine, and the world spins wildly around me until, finally, it starts to slow again. Similar to how my heartbeat starts to slow, my breathing starts to even. All we can do is stay locked together like this, trembling, until it passes.
I have to laugh softly once it does, and life comes back into focus. “That’s a nice way to wake up.”
“I thought you’d like it.” He presses a kiss against the side of my neck before a satisfied groan vibrates from his chest into my back. “Not like I didn’t.”
“I was going to say. Don’t act like that was all for me.”
My heart sinks a little when he pulls away, but there are things to be done. We can’t spend our entire lives screwing around as much as I would like to sometimes. We have so much lost time to make up for. Three months hasn’t been nearly long enough to do that. I don’t know if an entire lifetime would be.
“Come on.” He stands, giving me the pleasure of checking out his chiseled body when it’s bathed in sunlight. “I’ll jump in the shower. Want to join me?”
I sit up, stretching, and only pretend to be stern when I narrow my eyes. “What, you didn’t get enough of me yet?”
“I doubt I ever will. But I just figured I’d save us some time.” Well, I can’t argue with that. I hurry out of bed and into the master bath, where he is already running the shower for us. He’s still quicker than me, but then he’s a guy, and there aren’t as many steps to his shower as there are to mine.
Once he’s finished washing up and rinsing off, I still have to finish conditioning my hair, or else risk my curls turning into a ball of frizz. As I do, I hum happily to myself while clouds of lilac-scented steam envelop me. Can this really be my life? It doesn’t seem right, somehow. After all that struggle, everything seems so simple now. Easy. I get to do exactly what I want with exactly the person I want to be with. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop… but it hasn’t yet. Hopefully, it never will.
At least, that’s what I’m thinking when I emerge from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a bathrobe and scrunching my damp curls with a towel.
And that’s when I see Romero’s face. He lowers his phone from his ear and tucks it into his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind rescheduling your morning.”
My stomach drops, and it’s like all the air got sucked out of the room. “What is it?”
Already he’s sitting on the bed, pulling his shoes on. “We need to get to the hospital. Now.”
Maybe Romero doesn’t notice, but I do. Pulling up to the sprawling hospital, watching it get bigger and bigger the closer we get. He hasn’t said anything – he’s probably too busy driving. Or maybe he really doesn’t realize where we are.