Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Why does he have to be so damn hot?
His dark hair is always styled as though he put no effort whatsoever into it but still looks good and trendy. Up this close, I notice a few tiny freckles on his cheeks. The dark stubble along his jaw is tempting, and my fingers twitch to scrape the pads of them along the hair there. I tighten my grip around the Coke bottle to keep from doing anything stupid, like caress his face.
“You live in a shithole, Voss.”
“Not everyone lives in a palace like you,” he growls, his temper flaring at my words.
“No, your house is nice. Your bedroom is a pit.” I poke at his abs that are so hard a flash of annoyance shoots through me. “It’s nice to see you’re not perfect everywhere.” His abs, though, are totally perfect. Fucker.
“I can assure you,” he rumbles and runs the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, “I’m perfect where it counts.”
I swallow hard, momentarily at a loss for words. I manage to dig deep and find some strength. “Would you like to prove it?”
His nostrils flare. “You’d like to get on your knees for me, Wonderland. But what would your precious daddy think if you sucked your brother off?” He grabs the bottle of Coke from my hand and tosses it away from us.
“Fuck off,” I snap, shoving him.
Since he’s solid muscle from years of football, he barely moves. A deep chuckle rumbles from him. With a firm hand on my chest, he pushes me all too easily until I land on my ass on his bed. The way his eyes track me like he wants to pin me and eat me has me playing dead for him. I fall back on his freshly made bed with a soft thump, unable to look away from how he looms over me. The artist in me wants to freeze the moment so I can sculpt his perfect, intense features.
“Why are you in my house?” he asks, his voice low and curious, not at all angry like I would expect.
“Just giving our sister a little one-on-one in her bedroom.” I waggle my brows at him in a suggestive way. “You came home just in time to make it a family affair.”
He sighs as though he’s frustrated, but the fury is missing. “You never quit.”
“It’s like you don’t even know me, Voss.”
His head cants to the side, his attention keeping me pinned to the bed with the weight of his stare alone. “Actually, I’m learning that I do know you. You’re pretty easy to pick apart. Like with winning.” A devilish grin tilts his lips up. “I know you have to win in every aspect of your life except…”
Except what?
I don’t voice my words because he stuns me speechless when he places a knee on the bed next to my hip on my left and then the other one on my right side. He falls forward, his palms planting beside my head.
“Canyon.” I’m not sure if the word even leaves my mouth.
He hears because his eyes narrow, tracking the sound to my lips. I swallow in a desperate attempt to calm the insane way my heart is beating.
“Except what?” I murmur.
He lifts one hand from the bed, grabbing mine and pinning it. I stare at him in shock as he grabs the other wrist too. Testing the limits of his restraints, I try and move my hands to no avail. When I lift my hips, he sits down on me, trapping me. A needy groan escapes my throat, ragged and wild, as his body rubs against my dick in an infuriatingly teasing way.
“Except this.” His smile is vicious and victorious. “You want to be overpowered by me in this bed.”
Fuck.
This asshole just found my Achilles’ heel.
Canyon
Slow the fuck down, man.
I’m trying to talk some sense into my mind, but my dick is wide awake and calling the shots. Seriously, what the hell am I doing? I have my nemesis pinned on my bed, rubbing my ass along his straining erection.
Who’s torturing who because right now, it’s unclear.
He makes another mewling sound that has me tightening my hold on his wrists. I like that he’s trapped beneath me, unable to move. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and I’m there for it, stalking the movement like a cat chasing a toy.
Does he taste like limes?
I bet he does.
And Coke.
Dipping down, I bring my mouth to his ear. “When your dad finds out about this, he’s going to be so pissed.”
“He won’t,” he chokes out. “And if you tell him, he won’t believe you.”
Because I’m a bastard and dead set on destroying this guy, I flick my tongue out to lick the side of his neck. It’s meant to drive him insane. But holy fuck does he taste good. He groans when I suck on the flesh hard and then release him with a pop.