Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Fuck, my heart skips a beat and stops dead in my chest. “You do?” A tear runs down her cheek, and I catch it, wiping it away. “Don’t cry over them,” I urge her. “You left them, Janie. You made the best choice of your life, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Of this goddess that I’ve somehow convinced to read a book on me.”
Her lips part as laughter leaves them, the pain leaving her sweet eyes somewhat. “Did you convince me, or did I just lie down on you?”
I grin, running my thumb along her lips. “It may have been the latter.”
“It was,” she reminds me, leaning into my hand. “But I don’t know if that was the best choice of my life.”
“How can you not be sure?” I ask in disbelief.
“Not when I also made the choice to ask you to kiss me,” she reminds me. “And that led to this.”
“Austen, I’m not comparable to leaving a cult,” I assert, but she doesn’t agree.
“I disagree,” she says, her eyes burning into mine. “Because I didn’t really start living until I met you.”
“Austen—”
“Really. Dimitri, yeah, I came here to prove I could do it, be on my own, but I know what I would have done. I would have sat in this apartment and read all the time. I wouldn’t have spoken to anyone at the rink or tried to get to know anyone. I would have faded away, falling into a rhythm that didn’t scare me. You jacked that all up.”
Laughter bubbles from me.
“And now I’m living, and I’m just so fucking happy.”
God, my heart is going to come out of my chest. I pick up her book, putting it on the table before I take her by her underarms and pull her up my body with ease until her lips are at mine. I search her eyes, and the words are right there. Three words my heart is begging for me to say.
“I can’t even begin to describe how the word fuck on your lips makes me harder than a rock.”
Her lips twitch. “I’m disappointed. As a hockey player, you should say harder than a frozen puck,” she teases, and my heart sings for her.
“True, or the steel pipe of the goal.”
“Or the rock-hard sheet of ice.”
“Or as hard as my shaft.”
Her laughter sputters, and neither of us can help it. We dissolve into laughter before our lips crash together in the most heated and needed kiss of my life. So much can be said, those three words included, but I don’t need to say them for her to feel them.
As we part, my eyes burn into hers as I whisper, “I love drowning between your legs.” Her eyes widen as her lips part, and everything inside me gets harder than before. “I love making you scream, and I love the taste of every single inch of you.” I can feel her heart slamming into her chest, see the lust deep in her eyes. “But I will never expect, ask, or even demand that you give me that pleasure, Janie.”
Tears glisten in her eyes. “And if I want to?”
“I mean, I won’t stop you,” I say with a strained laugh. “But I want it to be at your comfort, your pace, and when you want to do it.”
A tear splashes against my bare chest, and my heart shatters for this woman. She swallows as she runs her fingers along my lips. I know she wants to say something. I know she is struggling with her emotions, and fuck, so am I.
To save us both, I capture her lips with mine.
With hope that she knows my kiss is my promise.
thirty-two
Austen
There is something very different about this kiss.
It feels desperate. Uncontrollable. As if he has never said truer words. Within seconds, I feel that, and I don’t understand it. I don’t want to, though; I just want him. I slide my fingers into his hair. His heart is pounding against mine as he reaches down, taking me by the backs of the thighs and positioning them so I straddle him. His cock is hard underneath me, throbbing against my center and making heat course through every single inch of me. He sits up without any warning, his mouth still devouring mine as he grabs ahold of my butt and stands up like I weigh nothing more than a feather. I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist as he carries me to his room.
Excitement rushes through me because I’ve never been in his room. I know he isn’t bringing me here for a tour of the space, but rather a tour of his bed. Which is A-OK with me. His knee hits the bed first, and my ass sits on his thigh. He draws back, pulling my shirt up and over my head before unhooking my bra and tossing it behind him. The moonlight shines against his jaw, his strong chest, and even makes the cross around his neck glitter. I’m lost in the beauty of him before I reach out, running my fingertips over his cross.