Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Seriously though,” I told him, pausing while undoing my pants when reason really hit me. “I know you didn’t get enough sleep, and we don’t need to do anything.”
Zac turned to me before taking a seat on the edge of the bed and scooting backward on it, shirtless and tan and so perfectly built, I didn’t understand why no one had ever put him on an underwear ad. “We can do whatever you want, darlin’. Why don’t you come here for a sec though while we think about it?”
Think about it?
I smirked and nodded.
And maybe I was jumping the gun a little by taking my pants off, but I did it anyway. It got me a little murmur from Zac that had me side eyeing him as I stood up straight. “What? I don’t wear jeans when I go to bed.”
He was sprawled on the mattress, his upper body propped on the headboard—this thick engraved thing with horses and cowboys on it that was pretty epic—his smile lazy but different as his eyes moved over me standing there in my underwear. “Come here. Come sit with me.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I crawled up on the bed, totally conscious of the fact that I didn’t look like a supermodel or even a wannabe model in any way, but I didn’t care. It had taken me half an hour to get the face paint off, and I was pretty sure there were streaks around the edges, close to my hairline. I had a cute bra on and underwear that didn’t exactly match but were close enough.
But most importantly, I could see the tent in his jeans as one of his hands went down to the button and flicked it open. “What? I can’t sleep with them buttoned up,” he drawled with a wink.
I laughed as I made it between his outstretched and slightly spread legs when he reached for me, leading me in and onto him so my hip settled beside his, my legs between his own and my upper body mostly draped on top of his, our heads sharing the pillow he had cushioned between the headboard. His hand didn’t waste time going to my hip and sliding up my ribs as he smiled at me, warmly and with so much love, he didn’t need to use the word again or any time soon for me to understand.
His fingers tickled the sensitive skin of my ribs as he palmed them. “This is real nice,” he said as his opposite hand went to my thigh, his thumb making a line.
I set my hand on his chest between his pectorals, feeling the light hair under my fingers. “This is nice,” I agreed, lifting my head to give his throat a peck. His skin was warm and soft.
He turned and kissed me, pecks and slow, slow kisses that had his tongue dipping into my mouth, then open mouth kisses and more pecks. I wasn’t even sure when it happened, but at some point, my hand was on his cheek as I held him there. And I definitely had no idea when his hand slid beneath my underwear, his palm cupping my bare ass cheek.
But the second I knew, the second I realized it, I arched against him, wanting him to touch me more as we kissed.
“Did I tell you already how nice this is?” he asked as he dragged his lips to my throat and gave me another slight suck there as his hand cupped the meatiest part of my butt. “How good you feel? How much I love lookin’ at you?”
“No. You can always tell me again,” I murmured, trailing my hand down between his pecs until it reached the center of his flat, hard abs before making a line back up.
Then he kissed me more, and I wasn’t even sure when his hand lifted my right leg up even higher so that it was hitched over his opposite hip, my left leg still resting between his thighs. And the next thing I knew, I was leaning over him, kissing him, my leg restless as it rubbed against him and part of his jeans. His fingers moved, sliding lower and lower until the pads of them brushed over my lower lips, soft and almost feather-like from the back going to the front.
I moaned as they went back in the direction they’d come. I arched my hips, trying to get more of his touch as he brushed my seam, back to front and back to front, as I kept trying to follow him. Them. His fingers.
“You good with a little more?” he asked after tearing his mouth away, his lips millimeters from mine.
All I could do was nod, my words gone.
He nodded too, eyes hot, as one of his fingers finally grazed my seam, sliding between my lips and just slightly brushing my clit as he did so. It had to be his middle finger because his index and ring finger still grazed the sides of me before the tip of it dipped inside. Just the tip. He moved over my seam again, sliding and brushing, petting me. Then he slipped a little more of his finger in, groaning at what I was positive had to be me soaked.