Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
It's been too long since we've had sex, and I crave his closeness. There's something so sweet and simple about pulling his shirt off once it's unbuttoned, revealing the intricate ink and muscles that move beneath my fingertips as I trace the dark lines of his dragon tattoo.
“How was your day?” He turns his head, and I lean in for a kiss before pressing my lips to his bare shoulder. The groan of pleasure he releases zings straight through me. “You have no idea how good it feels to have your lips on me. I've missed you so much. Missed your touch and your scent. It was unbearable torture without you.”
“I know.” I continue to pepper kisses along his shoulder and the back of his neck, then massage the tight muscles with my thumbs. “Today was long, but I kept myself occupied. Sheryl was nice company. I asked her if she'd teach me some of her recipes. I love cooking and want to be able to make some of the things she makes for you, that you enjoy.”
He reaches back and covers my hands with his. “This is what I want. This is what I've had in my head from the beginning. Having you here, waiting for me at the end of each day. Something sweet to look forward to after all the ugly, filthy shit I wade through.”
“You mean you want me to hang around the house all day and be available to you whenever you snap your fingers?”
“What's so wrong with that?” When I dig my nails into his flesh, he lets out a husky laugh. “What? I'd like to keep you barefoot and pregnant and chained to the stove. So long as the chain is long enough to reach the bedroom.”
“You're a chauvinist pig,” I protest over his laughter.
“Okay, okay, fine.” He smirks at me over his shoulder, and the soft light from the nightstand dances over his chiseled features, turning him from the dark, dangerous villain to the kind, compassionate man I've come to know. “That's a line I heard from my old man when I was a kid. All I want is you here. All the time. Where I can see you and touch you and remind myself you're real. That I didn't dream you up.”
“You didn't dream me up.” The scruff on his cheeks rubs against my palms when I take his face into my hands. “I'm real, and I'm here. I might give you shit, but my biggest joy is being right beside you.”
“I love you.” The words shine from within him when he smiles, warming me like the sun on a soft spring day. Gentle, yet necessary for life. For my life, anyway.
“I love you, too.” The words don't come close to expressing how I truly feel. How much I need him, how whole he makes me. How his kiss unlocks something in my core, something hot and greedy and strong enough to make my breath come fast.
A sizzle runs up my spine when his tongue probes my lips, then slides into my mouth. He takes his time, kissing me slowly, exploring me while my nails sink into his firm shoulders. My hunger for him isn't the kind that fades away when I get a taste. It only grows more potent, like his kiss is gasoline poured on the fire blazing in my heart.
He breaks the kiss to lift my t-shirt over my head and tosses it on the floor. When he stares at my body—nostrils flaring, mouth open to allow for his harsh breathing—a flush creeps up over my neck and into my cheeks.
“Perfect,” he whispers, running a finger from my collarbone down to my navel. Goosebumps pebble my skin before he eases me back until I'm lying against the satin-covered pillows.
Taking my breasts, he molds them in his hands, pushing them together. His tongue sweeps over my nipples until I lift my hips, beckoning him between my legs. I need him, right now. “Callum… yes…” I whimper while my fingers run through his hair and scrape over his scalp. He groans and shudders as his tongue moves in wet circles, teasing my nipples into taut peaks.
After tempting me, he finally closes his lips around one and sucks, flicking the sensitive tip until my head spins and all I can do is moan his name. My arousal continues to build, the juices from my pussy running down my thighs until they soak into the sheets. All for him. He's the only man who could do this to me.
I'm panting by the time he releases my nipple with a soft pop. Then he's moving his lips, blazing a skillful trail down my torso, making my muscles flutter beneath his lips. “I've missed your body,” he whispers, and the hot breath fanning against my flesh makes me shiver. “I've missed the way you melt beneath my fingertips and moan my name.”