Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 130221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
She smiles just a little—sweet in a way she never really is—and presses her forehead to mine, holding me there.
“You can touch me,” she whispers, her breath falling on my mouth. “If you want.”
I…uh…
She shifts up, sliding her hands up my bare chest, grinding against me. Or maybe she just brushed me and didn’t mean to, but my cock stretches against my jeans, and I’m sweating already. I…
She drags her mouth across my cheek, and I don’t… I can’t. “Stop,” I say.
And she does. She stops.
Fuck.
I inhale slow and then exhale. It’s just going too fast. She didn’t give me any warning. Just walked in here, dressed in almost nothing, and…
Ugh, this is such a bad idea. I’ll fuck it up. I always do. What then? We’re starting to be friends. She’s going to leave.
I put my hands on her hips, about to move her off, but she stops me. “I just want to touch you.” Her temple rests against mine, the smell of my shampoo in her hair.
“I just want to feel you.” She hasn’t moved her hands a centimeter since I told her to stop. “I don’t want more.”
“Why?” Is she not attracted to me?
But she doesn’t falter. “Because what you want is right,” she replies. “It should be with someone you love. I wouldn’t take that away from you. I don’t deserve it.”
I go still, keeping my hands on her but not moving either of us.
“Just touching,” she murmurs.
Someone who’s patient. Nice.
Someone who lets me explore.
A lump stretches my throat, but I nod. “Okay.”
I trust her.
She brushes her lips across my cheek, and I hear her inhale through her nose as she moves slowly down to my neck. Sliding her hands up, she wraps one around my neck and slips the other up into my hair. Parting her lips, she runs them over my ear and then rises up on her knees, gliding her mouth over my forehead and making my blood race.
God, that feels good. I let my eyes fall closed as she comes back down and buries her nose in my neck and inhales deep.
“I thought you wanted to touch me,” I say.
She’s barely moved her hands.
But she says, “I am.” And she continues to move her mouth over my skin, feeling me with her lips.
Her chest rises and falls, heavier against mine, and I don’t know if that means she likes it or not. I can’t read her body, and I don’t want to ask.
I move. Digging my fingers into her waist, I hear her suck in a sharp breath, and I almost stop. Did I hurt her?
But then I see the goosebumps all over her thighs.
I smile to myself. “Get up,” I whisper.
“Hawke…”
“Get up.” I nudge her, and she pulls back, scrambling off of me and rising. I stand with her, seeing the alarm in her eyes as she backs away, but I pull her back in and spin her around.
I want to see what else gives her goosebumps.
I hold her hip with one hand and cover her back with my body, reaching up and touching her hair.
“Hawke…”
“Shhh.”
I thread a lock through my fingers, pulling lightly until I’ve reached the end.
Chills spread down her arms.
“That feels good?” I ask.
She nods. “I guess so.” She breathes out a laugh. “I like my hair touched.”
“What else do you like?”
She hesitates, and I’m glad I can’t see her face.
“Your skin on mine,” she says in a low voice.
She crosses her arms in front of her, taking the hem of her T-shirt and pulls it up, over her head.
My head feels like it’s floating ten feet above my body as I gaze down at her bare shoulders. She drops the shirt to the floor, waiting for me.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
My voice is barely audible. “Yeah.”
I only hesitate a moment before I press my body into her back and look down, over her shoulders.
Beautiful, tight skin covers her torso, her breasts pert and full, making my groin ache.
The brown flesh of her nipples pebbles and hardens, two points jutting out.
I put my hands on her shoulders, my thumbs running up the back of her neck. “Cold?” I tease.
“A little.”
Digging in my fingers, I drag my hands down her arms, feeling chills rise again. She falls into me, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.
She likes it.
I wrap one arm around her waist and another around her chest and hold her tight, burying my face in her hair.
Everything, her gentleness and scent, her fear and innocence, I like seeing it.
I kiss her hair and feel her shudder, but it sounds like a sob.
I look down, seeing her chin trembling.
“What’s wrong?” I start to pull away, but she holds my arms to her.
“I feel pretty when you do that,” she whispers. “Like you like the way I look.”
I close my eyes. It doesn’t take much, does it? How could no one take their time with her?