Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
“I don’t feel secure. I won’t for a long time after this mess with the company. And since I know what you’re thinking, yes, I’m aware that my need for security stems from my mother leaving, but it’s a need that exists to be fed. I’m going to feed it.”
“Don’t sell yet. I promise you, Carrie, promise you, that you’ll feel secure when this is over.”
“I won’t,” I repeat firmly. “Not for a long time.”
“You will, baby. Trust me.”
I want to trust him. I want to believe this man could hold my heart and my life in his hands and he wouldn’t crush them both. But Reid is not the guy I could take home to my non-existent mother, as he himself proclaimed quite adamantly. He’s the guy I will end up hating, and that is not a good thought right now.
“Let’s go back to the cottage,” he says, and when he tries to stand up and take me with him, I have this sudden need for control. I push him back and into the sand.
“You don’t get to get up yet,” I say, shoving him until he’s lying flat, and twisting to my knees beside him, my hand on that perfect, hard chest of his.
“And why is that?” he challenges.
“Because I’m not done with you here,” I say, and when I would kiss him, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me against him.
“What are you going to do with me now that I’m here?” he challenges.
“Wait and see,” I say, reaching down and stroking the satisfyingly thick ridge of his erection. I turn him on. I like that I turn him on. I like so many things with this man that I might even love those things, but not him. I’m not going to fall in love with Reid Maxwell. I’m going to enjoy every inch of his hard body with my hands and my tongue, and own him like he did me.
Inspired, I straddle him and lean down and kiss him. He tangles rough fingers in my hair, and I moan with the lick of his tongue, but I don’t let myself get lost. Not in the kiss. There’s too much more of this man for me to enjoy, to own. I push away from him and slide down his body, settling between his legs to shove up his shirt and kiss his stomach. “You want to know what I’m going to do, don’t you?”
“Show me,” he orders gruffly, affected, and the very idea that he’s aroused, that he wants this, turns me on. I’m wet. My nipples ache. My body burns for this man, but I want him to burn for me.
I slide lower, and kiss and lick the line above his waistband, my hand stroking his cock through his sweats. His lashes lower, his hard body harder with the tensing of his muscles, and I know how on edge he is, how much he wants my mouth on his body, and I want it there, too. I drag his pants the rest of the way down and then my hand is wrapping his shaft, and I look up at him as I lick the pooled liquid at the tip of his erection.
He jerks slightly and I’m inspired to do more. I drag my tongue around the soft head of his cock and then suckle him into my mouth. He moans and arches his hips, and I draw him deeper, sucking on him, my tongue working the underside of his cock. His hand comes down on my head and that’s what pushes me over the edge. That’s what has me wet and hot and sucking harder and deeper. He’s in need. He needs. I need his need. I want that burn I felt to burn him and it does. He starts pumping harder, pushing into the movement of my mouth, and when he murmurs, “Carrie, baby,” and releases my head, I suck him harder and deeper until his hand is back on my head, and he’s shuddering, shaking and groaning as the saltiness of his release fills my mouth and I don’t stop. I take it and him and go all the way, slowing as he slows, easing my mouth only when he’s collapsing into the sand. I give him one final lick and then drag his pants back into place.
“Carrie,” he whispers, dragging me up his body. “You know—”
“That I owed you. And never say I don’t pay my debt. I owned you and owed you.”
Suddenly I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, his hands on the sand on either side of me. “You owe me nothing, ever. That is not what we are. You never owe me. Say it.”
“Reid—”
“Say it, Carrie. That’s not who we are.”
“I don’t owe you. That’s not who we are.”