Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
His hand comes down, long fingers tangling in my soaked hair. The water beats down on us. Droplets cling to his chest before dripping downward, traveling over muscle and sinew.
I brace one hand on his firm thigh, wrap the other around his erection, and suck him deep. He guides me wordlessly, encouraging me by cupping the back of my head. My entire body is scorching, taut with desire. When I peer up at Cooper, see those tattooed arms, the stubble shadowing his jaw, and feel him throbbing on my tongue, I don’t regret a single thing that brought me to this point.
There’s fire in you, Mac. He’d told me that the night of the carnival. Said I get off on the thrill, on life. He wasn’t wrong. Since I broke up with Preston and started dating Cooper, I’d never felt more alive.
“I don’t want to come this way,” he mumbles, and then he’s pulling me to my feet and kissing me hard enough to rob me of breath.
His hands hungrily roam my body as his tongue toys with mine. I’m hot and achy and more than ready for him. But for all my thrill-seeking, unprotected sex isn’t on my thrill list, and Cooper and I only just got together.
“Condom.” I whisper the reminder against his eager lips.
Without argument, he shuts off the shower and we sprint into his bedroom, dripping water everywhere and laughing at our own urgency.
“On the bed,” he orders, devouring my naked body with his eyes.
My wet hair soaks the pillow the moment I lie down, but I’m too turned on to feel bad and Cooper doesn’t seem to mind. He’s wearing a condom and on top of me before I can blink. He kisses me again, hot, greedy, his tongue sliding into my mouth at the same time he thrusts deep.
I gasp, shaking from the jolt of pleasure that sizzles up my spine. I scrape my nails down his damp back and wrap my legs around him to draw him in deeper.
“You feel so good,” he croaks against my lips.
“So do you.” I lift my hips to meet his hurried thrusts, rocking against him. Mindless with need. “Faster,” I beg.
He moves faster, and it isn’t long before I’m seeing stars and trembling with release. He doesn’t last much longer than me. Soon he’s slamming into me harder, still kissing me, biting my lip as he comes.
Afterward, we lie on our backs and catch our breath. A feeling of pure contentment washes over me. I can’t remember the last time I felt so sated after sex. Sated in general.
“I’m still pissed you went up on the roof.”
I twist my head to look at him. “Seriously?”
“It was a dumbass move.”
“I stand by it,” I say haughtily.
“Of course you do.” It sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Or maybe he’s trying not to strangle me.
Apparently we both suck at backing down from an argument. It isn’t in our natures, I suppose. But I can live with that. I wouldn’t respect him otherwise. The last thing I want is a doormat.
On the other hand, all that bickering can’t be good, can it?
I sigh. “We argue a lot. I feel like that’s a second strike against us.”
“What’s the first strike?” he asks curiously.
“We’re total opposites. And yeah, they say opposites attract and fighting can be a healthy release of passion and all that, but our backgrounds are so different.” I hesitate, then confess, “Sometimes I have no idea how we’re supposed to fit in each other’s lives. And then add in the fact that you’re an argumentative jackass and I want to punch you half the time, and …” Another sigh slips out. “Like I said, two strikes.”
“Mac.” The mattress shifts as he sits up. Dark eyes peer down at me. Intense, with a hint of amusement. “First of all, they say? Who’s they and who cares? Every relationship is different. Some people fight, some people don’t. Some want calm, some want passion. We define our own relationship. And second, I hate to break it to you, but we’re both argumentative jackasses.”
I grin at him.
“The only opposite thing about us is our bank accounts. We’re a lot more alike than you and your uptight ex.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, it’s fucking so. You know what I think?”
“Please, do tell,” I say graciously.
“I think you were with that prick because he was safe. You said it yourself—he helped you stay restrained. And you needed that, because in your world, you can’t act out or be yourself or do anything that might bring negative attention to your family, right? Well, you don’t need to do that with me. Those two strikes you listed might be strikes in your other world, but here, you and me, we’re exactly who and what we need to be.”
My heart squeezes. Oh hell. When he says stuff like that, he makes it pretty damn hard to not catch feelings.